Some are lucky,
They stand on the shoulders of giants.

The rest of us,
With a less glamorous life,
Mostly stand atop
A tower of old mistakes
And sheer dumb luck.

It is tortuous,
Slanted, crooked, haphazard,
Crumbling,
Shaky and unsafe…
But it is where I stand.

Perfectly clear hindsight
And an uncertain future
Sometimes whisper in my ear;
If you had the chance,
Would you restart from scratch?

It might not be
Strong and grandiose
As the shoulders of giants,
But it has made me
As much as I have made it.

That’s why,
Imperfect as it is,
I would not change
A single,
Bloody,
Thing.