Poem: Sometimes

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Sometimes
I stand out on the porch
as the sun rises
on the horizon
coffee mug in hand
and wonder
how I got here
what Deity granted
me Its grace
or its fury.
They all say
to stop and take stock
of your blessings
and your curses
be grateful for all
that has happened in your life.
And that you're still breathing
and still surviving
despite all to the contrary.

Sometimes
I wonder just how
and why
I live for another day
because for all intents
and purposes
I probably shouldn't have.
Is it just a quirk of fate
or is there some sort
of cosmic game
of which I am
completely unaware?

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