Irony — I Stand Bewildered

I am bewildered…

Amazed… quietly undone…

By the strange ironies of life,

The twisted threads that tangle time,

That shape our fates with unseen hands,

Leaving us wondering, wandering, wordless.

We chase meanings,

We grasp for purpose,

We stitch together dreams with care—

Yet so often,

What we plan

Is never what unfolds.

We think one thought—

And life answers with another.

We draw a map—

And someone else walks the road.

We plant seeds—

And watch strangers reap the fruit.

We yearn for joy—

And see it settle on another’s shoulder.

Our laughter, borrowed.

Our sorrow, deeply owned.

How strange…

The paths we build

With sweat and prayer,

Are traveled

By those who never knew our fears.

The destinations we picture—

So vivid, so close—

Are reached

By others whose hearts beat to different songs.

And we,

The original dreamers,

Are left watching from afar,

Applauding quietly,

As others claim our stars.

---

The hands we once held,

Now entwine with someone else’s fingers.

The names we once whispered in longing,

Are spoken now in different ears.

The companions we trusted—

Our confidants, our kin—

Have found new circles,

Leaving us behind

To share secrets with silence.

---

What irony,

That the house we built with hope

Is now lived in by another.

That the lullabies we composed

Now soothe someone else's child.

That the love we carved into stone

Now graces someone else’s shrine.

---

Yet still—

We trust.

We place our faith in fate,

In destiny,

In something larger, kinder, wiser.

But life…

Life has its own script.

Written not in ink,

But in fire and fog.

Our lives—so fully ours—

Are somehow lived

By someone else.

And when pain rains down,

When the dark clouds gather

Over *our* heads—

Even then,

Others turn away,

Relieved that the storm has missed them.

---

Even death—

That final truth—

We hope will knock at a different door.

And yet, sometimes,

It is the wrong one who answers.

---

I am bewildered…

By the cruel comedy of it all.

By this masquerade

Where hearts are misplaced,

Fates misaligned,

And joy so often belongs to those

Who never dared to dream it.

---

I have seen my name

Etched on destinies

That were never mine.

And my soul

Whispered into corners

Where I was never heard.

---

Why is it so?

Why is life

So tangled in contradiction?

Why does the one who gives

Remain empty?

Why does the one who loves

Remain alone?

Why does the one who builds

Watch the walls crumble?

---

It was meant to be something else—

All of it.

Different.

Softer.

Kinder.

But what was meant

Is not what came.

What was hoped

Is not what happened.

And so—

I stand bewildered.

Bitter and silent

At life’s grand irony.

Wondering,

Always wondering:

**Why is it,

That what was meant to be one thing...

Always turns out

To be something else?**