Life is a matter of counting from one to ten. There are things left undone; dreams stayed unreal. From that moment in time you are quite sure what to happen (or not), all we can do is count from one until ten fingers are done.

Uncertainties and that’s how it is. Painful as it seems, life is full of uncertainties, for the unforeseen and unforetold stories of the randomness of fate.

Count From One To Ten

The filth of mud on my feet scattered,
Is not enough to explain the pain of life.
If in my hands my fate is written,
Does fate last until I die?

One. One life I need to celebrate,
Two. Two eyes where the future unseen,
Three. Three words: I love you,
Four. Four sides and corners I need to be free.

Five. Five ends of the twinkle of a star,
Six. Six days, the days of waiting,
Seven. Seven times in a week of dreaming,
Eight. Eight times my mind turns crazy.

Nine. Nine days and nights when the rain never stops,
Ten. Ten fingers I finished counting.
When?
When will you be mine?

The filth of mud on your feet scattered,
Is not enough to explain the pain of life.
If in your hands your fate is written,
My fate is you are mine when I sleep until I wake up.•

Here lies the pain, ten times the pain. The uncertainty of life about fate told in a short and random poem.

You can check my other literary works here.

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Check for more original literary works soon on this blog. I usually write short stories and poems inspired by random thoughts and on-the-spot input from nowhere.

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[In photo: John Kevin Durano; photographed by yours truly]