Shot into life like a cannonball

And sent hurtling

Into the future

With no sense of where you’d go;

Continue to fly forward,

Or crash flaming into the earth?

Some choices you can make

With small rudder adjustments

Along the way

But mostly it feels like

This journey was predetermined

The moment it started

And you,

You’re a tourist

Watching the world race past

Waiting to hit the wall.