The Unseen Hand of Destiny
In midnight hush the unseen hand takes flight,
It threads our hours with silver filaments of light;
It bends our course beyond the charted sight,
And turns a wandering wrong toward something right.
Beneath the breath of chance the quiet currents be,
It pulls one leaf toward shore, another to the sea;
It whispers reasons hidden from both you and me,
Then shapes the distant arc until we learn to see.
Not cruel nor kind — a hand that does not pry,
It balances the coin between the low and high;
Accept its touch, learn gently to ask why,
For every path it lights becomes your sky.
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