Winds Of Fortune

This story can’t be written with the tip of a quill
For who can foresee the ending of His will.
Nor can I place it forth and command it mine,
Thus all I can do is move one moment at a time.
Life is a passing, a path that we follow must
Who knows what winds of fortune will gust
Though seek I ought, for my soul is bane,
Who’ll tell what rumors it is designed to gain