Perhaps

Perhaps life is a momentary twist in fate and time, within which
Sentience has its chance to exist. From nauseous, harsh
First discovery of air and light, the celestial clock starts to tick
Abandoning each babe to its unique and earthly plight.
Unconscious of emotions, oblivious to feelings
Ignoring our notions that we might in some way be blessed or unlucky
The only truth it can know, is that of improbabilistic existence
Itself shown through an infinitesimal combination of factors
Each set in motion long before we might have cause to question
Cause to mock, cause to think of presumed imperfections
Even though, here’s the shock, for some, these are all they can see.
Yet we are issued, at birth, without a guarantee, no warranty
Nor process of complaint, return labels or packing tissue.
To what can we avail, ‘tween big bang and the laws of physics
We chase our tails, subjected to the vagaries of fate and distance
Still hoping for good luck and chance meetings serendipitous…
And yet time is fleeting, the moments we capture
Will not come again. Like grains of sand they pass
From one sphere, retainer of all we are yet to be, to experience,
To another, of all that we have done, been and gone.
Even as the planet we inhabit circles the sun
At just the right number of unitary miles, so do we define ourselves
Through some uneasy, tenuous and yet fundamentally refined
Series of points on a multidimensional graph, too complex to devise
but one which might be summarised as ‘just right’. We are what we are
As a consequence of every other possibility being ruled out…
and yet, still, we doubt ourselves, our circumstances
Even as we find our ability to be, to exist, the least likely of all events,
To be self-evident enough to take for granted. Perhaps life 's biggest mystery
Is how we are so quick to see weakness, fault, cause to question
Everything but that which enables us to exist at all.

Perhaps.