Plans we make,
Every detail drawn,
Every obstacle predicted,
Every opinion sought,
Every repair outfitted,..
All of us plan,
Some optimistic,
Some otherwise,
And I wonder which one I am..
Cos most plans,
Fall short of the target,
Not due to its failure per se,
Or human flaws,
Or any unpredicted obstacle,
But cos of the randomness that marks life,
Of the uncertainties that envelop day to day living,
Of the plans that exist by themselves, unknown to us…
And hence I plan,
Fervently,
As if my depended on it,
Not to complete what I set to,
But for the randomness to rip it apart,
And leave me in a daze,
Called life…
