Life is a Symphony

A clutter of events

It burns and cools

And has no preference.

It plays favorites without fidelity,

Doles out justice on a whim.

She never cares what happens

Because it's the details she skims.

There need be no reason

And she cares less for rhyme.

After all, it does happen that

Things heal with time.

This is her chess match

In which we are merely pieces.

The thing to do is work within it

At least until the music ceases.