I watched a movie yesterday

where the terrorists were unmarried young men

between the ages of 20 and 35.

I’m 35, unmarried.

As you get older, you start to realize these things

especially when you don’t fit into age boxes.

Being out of the box, often means you are free

but it isn’t fun for most people

who prefer enclosed spaces.

Lately, I’ve been reading a lot of history

listening to lectures, from Hammurabi to 9/11

they all speak of a destiny

a string theory, that reverberates

throughout the ages, like a symphony, that nobody can predict.

Our destiny, is one, we are born with.

Sure, we have free will, but only in as much

as to fulfill

our destiny, or not.

I asked my dad about this, yesterday.

“Do all men have a destiny?”

“No,” he said.

His response would negate the idea

that all men are created equal.

“Negate”—a teacher at my work told me I like to use big words…

Truly, some men are destined to do great things

while others

scrub toilets

vote

go to board meetings

manage bureaucracies

and/or get married.

When we are young, we have unknowable potential

we might die of a disease, or live to be 100, without living

My mother asked me, who I was, yesterday

It’s strange, the people who know me the most, don’t know me.

“I haven’t done anything with my life,” I complained

“You’ve used your time well,” my mother said

I went home and watched my high school graduation video

it’s funny, destiny was written on their faces

Only two, popped out, among the children who spoke of trips, that changed their lives

One, was a kid I knew from elementary school. He works as a CEO.

The other, was me. It wasn’t my face, but my eyes and mouth

that betrayed me

the eyes were in pain, and determined

the mouth

had swallowed something bitter

I was 18.

At any moment, we can be wiped-out

like a stain

like a bug

scraped off a windshield.

Maybe, we are unknowable, to ourselves

until, we can look at our guts

under the microscope

and as the winds of time blow

we are uncovered

like a lost city

in the desert.

My plans, were written, on the wall

but somehow, my will, was unwilling

without the hand of God.

I am waiting

for my destiny to call me

Until then

my will is unwilling.