It could,
it might,
it eventually does and then,
then where,
where will you be standing,
sitting,
roaming,
living a life loved or hated?

No knowledge, no foresight,
no preparation, no chance,
no escape,
but,
the leftovers,
the remains,
the piecemeal parts
that shaped a timespan,
those small cuts into existence
made by your million actions,
they recall,
they cry,
they whisper,
they paint and you appear.