“Alas, who may trust this world”

Fortuna, unstable as the moon’s phases

Luke an unbalanced wheel’s uncertain moment

Chance and mutability and inconstancy

Cast me here

No, there is no faithfulness in this world

How decidedly a professional identity

Dissolves and you are left

My parents’ generation was set for life

I bought the false promise, too

Not for us, not for me

We eke out a mean existence in a mean world

Grab ahold of a fragment of solace

For as long as it will last

Fall, fail, pick up the pieces

Pick up yourself to try to manage

Another day, week, year, decade, life

Will the world turn for me

Fortune favor my fragment of solace

Land me on my feet again?

Or is my lesson here

In these straightened circumstances

Is there profit here?

In this loss

The recession in this micro-economy that was my life

What is lacking that I am not happy?

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