Though the odds of one and one dictate
You may carefully be given what you say,
Another chance to decide, if feeling lucky
Means another has to give you a prize
That turns, it always does, into resentment,
For you carry the weight of the thing
That assumes for a time
The proportions of the world
What you innocently wanted
Vs. what you innocently thought
You could have.
It's not like it's a compromise, a negotiation
On which your savvy is judged. You are the only God,
The one who decides what your sun shines on.
