Autumn approaches.
The time has come to shed skin.
The familiar molting, predictably occurring
Nearly every year during summer’s death rattle,
Begs a change in us.

Shall we harvest our souls–
ripe within our fleshy stalks–
To discard the old
And worn
And expose the fragile new?

Change will occur
With or without our approval.

How much are we willing to steer?

We let go when we don’t wish to be held accountable for mistakes.

Assertiveness  is not a risk everyone is willing to bear.
Gambling, if done smartly, will get you to an apex carefulness and guardedness cannot,

But I’ve always loathed the lottery.  And don’t care to bear the risk.