The force of fate is just a force of joy
The force of joy is water on the sand
The waves all ebb and flow as they destroy
the majesty of castles built by hand
The metaphors are mixed in god’s reply
to man, who thinks his image is divine
They sink like seaweed as the foam drifts by
reminding men of vinegar and wine
The bitterness of death is sometimes sweet
like similes of angels earning wings
or bread, symbolic flesh the righteous eat
The force of fate can justify such things
To justify my life I’ll call on fate
to force my joy while solemnly I wait.