We sailed upon the steady seas of fate,
With stars aligned in constellations great.
Our charts were drawn with lines so sure and straight,
A destined course that brooked no debate.
But then a whisper in the waters spoke,
A subtle current that the stillness broke.
Clinamen, the sea's soft breath of change,
A gentle drift, beautifully strange.
From planned horizons, our bearings slipped,
Into new waters, our vessel dipped.
What magic in this slight, unscripted veer?
A fresh narrative began to appear.
Where once the stars dictated our advance,
Now chance and whim crafted the dance.
A poem not of destiny but of choice,
In the hush of change, a new voice.
This wind, this wave, this wondrous deflection,
Steers us away from weary perfection.
For in the art of subtle deviation,
Lies the beauty of new creation.