I wonder how 
The fates decide 
About who lives 
And about who dies 
I question the brick 
I’m walking on 
Should it be dirt? 
Or should it be stone? 
I look at the world 
With unkindly eyes 
And ask if the universe chooses 
The matter of our lives 
Is mine made of cotton? 
Or wood or stone? 
What is it made of
That would leave me alone.