Circumstances create our conception, how we live, what kind of person we manage to grow into.
Another day, a different hour, take a left and not a right, you'd wind up a whole different being.
Knowing that would be better requires a realm of experience only decades can build.
Roses? Lilies? Moonlight? Sunlight?
Which do I prefer?
Ask me again in thirty or forty years, maybe then I'll know
