Wooden Spoons And Silver Indians

Infectious intentions rolling by in an armored facade of public transportation.
So obviously contagious is the temperament of the privileged.
I was one of them
Once.
As carefree and casual as a prolonged holiday.
Tenaciously giving grace to a tee.
Every situation was abundant with overflowing fair minded jealousy.
I can remember days
When I would antagonize ambiguity with deliberately placed conviction.
How I long to remember what that felt like.  
Still
The Architecture of the originals me
Flawlessly illustrates the primordially shifting of paradigms and predestined Determination.
Essentially
Every decision I made was erratically placed in the fingers of chance
By
The possibility of probable circumstance.
Actually, it was all one hundred percent choice.
I will always take half of that without question.
Because
That is what I do.
So why is it that my patterns of preference
And
lack of a voice
Always
leads to concentric conclusions?
Ever so modest is the way determination mills out schemes and plans that pulse to the Beat of a calculated illusion.
Is this the new pastime pursuant to the advantageous few?
Or
Just a dismal dreary downpour of uninformed decisions
Tickling the underarms of destiny?