IF I WROTE FATE

if the golden words were my slaves , if my thoughts played in human race, have I not been the one to make their souls smile in place, or let it drown in the flightful ocean maze Yet with thought and deed, have I not played the golden creed, where every soul and every life would sing the melody of delight, or would drown in the worldly fright? Observant would I not be, yet quiet, as human rights,it's life likea poem, like a poet? Just there are who they think. Don't wait for what I pick. They choose happiness to smile when I see a man fighting fleas. May these find me and my fleas. Let me be who is to be picked. Let life pick those who choose first the stick to have the blossom in the future leaves.