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probability

 It can happen, or it can't. 

It will happen, or it won't. 

But it might happen, or it might not. 

It certainly would, or it certainly wouldn't. 

It possibly could, or it possibly couldn't. 

It is possible, or it is impossible. 

Probability. 

It's like looking for the certain amongst the uncertainty, 

The art of hoping, without knowing. 

The art of waiting for an answer, unsure of whether it would arrive; 

But each moment a beacon for the possibility that it might. 

It's like staring up at the sky, knowing that 

Amongst a million stars, one might be yours

A reminder from the universe that what is unlikely to happen

Isn't impossible. 

Like a thousand doors, none guaranteed to open, 

But each holding the promise of something unexpected. 

Probability is 

Dreaming, calculating 

What could happen. 

It's assurance that it's sometimes okay 

To let yourself wander in the vague future. 

What-ifs and whatnaughts. 

Chasing dreams, hopes, not knowing 

If you would catch them

But knowing that 

There's always a different world behind each door. 

And each action sets off a chain of its own, 

For all you know, the probability of yourself - 

Branched off elsewhere; 

It's you, but it's not;

Having everything you don't have, has everything you do,

Living the life you think is too good to be true,

Is certain.  

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