Surrendering to Chance

I sift through my emotions, a rockless deposit of calcareous skeletons,

scholarly, now lifting my arms unwilling to Divine will, a fanfare echoing down the musty hallway;

 

wishing to escape a temperament of dark melodies playing from within a protective shell,

yet reluctant to admit a resentment to the grace, beauty, and harmony of the simpler life…

 

So I, with expession turning blue as I endeavor to specimen a fluid social expanse, yield,

flung to the outermost realms of consciousness, where, in dim illumination

live entertainment dances upon a tilted stage, singing my bittersweet longings,

gloomy patrons pressed into unlit corners,

gray-toned faces reflecting off the traitorous amber varnish of the bare synthetic tables…

 

I consider appeasing this foul mood, to join them, motionless, on display like a dust-covered gem;

then, deeming that I have purpose no longer, I, at long last, surrender to chance…

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same course of action as used in Must Rhyme Draw Blank by Jonathan ROBIN

(using all words) the end results offered for your comparative analysis

(and to marvel at how individualistic we all are)