Picking up the pieces,

Of past events,

And reassembling them,

To make sense,

Of the occurrences.

Predictions,

On the trajectory,

Of a rocket,

Aimed at open sky,

Which is harder to hit,

Than you’d expect.

The finely-sharpened, 

Somewhat dark art,

Of getting from the business-end,

To the destination,

And vice versa-

And how best to deliver it.

Chaos does not necessarily travel in straight lines,

But there is some order,

In the ways,

Of disarray.