My Musings on Old Age 34

Like a bullet our world spins down the rifled barrel of change. I’ve watched change for 70+ years now and come to the conclusion that the bullet isn’t aimed. It’s sent in random directions, and we can never be sure what any direction will bring.
Change fired us up into the air,
we think we know both when and where,
but this suggestion I can project,
we’re bound to land where we didn’t expect.

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