They weren't meant to be chosen.
Or maybe they were—
by some absurd divine shrug,
a bored flick of fate's wrist.
They trip forward
where others train.
Years of study, practice, sweat—
replaced by
a cookie,
a song,
a pink resume with a heart sticker.
They arrive not through doorways,
but windows left open
because no one imagined
anyone would come that way.
The world told them no,
but they couldn't hear it—
not out of defiance,
but because they were
too dazzled
by their own popcorn thoughts,
too blissfully wrong
to recognize the right paths they missed.
They were empty in the exact right places.
Vacant like a meadow
awaiting a storm.
And somehow,
in all their foolishness,
they touched the thing
that brilliance had only
circled.
