As we sit down to our dinner
As we open our romance books
People around the world die
We sip our water
Their guts spill open
We study our notes
Their planes crash
We live
They die
We breathe
They suffocate
We are testaments to chance
To luck
To possibility
We are not products of God
Or divinity
We are blind goats trotting on our path
Before we perish
Suddenly
And vanish
Into death
not mine
