I wanted it to unfold neatly. The timing to line up. The path to open.
It didn’t.
At first I called it bad luck. Then I noticed the pattern.
Every time I try to grip harder, life slips through my fingers.
Maybe the point isn’t to force what’s closed, but to stay open to what’s next.
The universe is still conspiring.
We just don’t always know where it’s taking us.
