The Good News Is Also the Bad News

We do sign our names to the stories of our lives –

However time and rain might blur them.

We do call “I am!” at the chasm of eternity,

But other echoes echo there as well –

Some fiercer, maybe, than our tender voice,

And Chance perhaps the loudest of them all,

Crying its hopeless gibberish to the stars,

Who hardly even blink in any case

To hear that wild, strange cacophony.

You are the architect of all you are –

But how closely were the plans followed?

Did fate skimp on the materials?

Were the union guys on strike the day your dreams were built –

Or just too expensive to begin with –

And did the making of your fortunes fall

To tender novices or slapdash hacks?

It doesn’t matter.  Life is not so short.

Unlucky?  Grieve it; then design again.

Design again.  Your time is not yet past.

And when you sign your name the final time,

Don’t ratify the chronicle of your slights,

But sign your life.  Be bold, and sign your life.

Your signature is on it either way.