Call It Destiny

It started by accident, and not only my accident. Something ended and something began in the same motion. I arranged neither. Someone else's timing had as much to do with it as mine did, and I can tell the version where none of it lines up, easily. Chance is the honest word for how it began. That's the part I keep turning over.

Then it kept going, and what came next I didn't arrange either. Other people moved toward it. It picked up a weight and a warmth that came from outside me. I want to call that destiny, and I notice I only want the word because it isn't mine alone. Something I authored by myself would just be a plan. But destiny doesn't hold on its own. It stays destiny only as long as I keep doing my part, so that the coincidence has somewhere to go.

People say it will get brighter. It won't. It's already bright here, too bright to find an exit, and that leaves one direction. Move forward.