All will be well, an old friend
Writes twice in the same letter.
Will all be well? Well,
No, if by that we mean all
Must work out for our better.
We know some things go to hell,
Although it feels true, as well,
To assume things smooth
Themselves through in the long run,
Rediscover their greased grooves,
And bloom again in the sun.
A statistician might say,
“All will revert to the mean.”
I’d say, all’s always in play.
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