I am sporadic,
There’s no schedule with me.
One moment you see me,
Next, I’m nowhere to be seen.
Fortune-tellers and mystics,
Have a hard time deducing,
Of the many paths before me,
Which one I’ll be choosing.
In the morning I rise,
With an outline of the day.
But plans can be altered,
And outlines can be changed.
The butterfly alone,
Doesn’t dictate it’s flight.
It’s subject to winds,
In the same way as I.
Listen to the whispers,
The heart speaks quite softly,
Follow intuition,
It comes from beyond thee.
