We planned for tomorrow
as if tomorrow
had signed a contract.
Then came the black swan—
quiet,
unexpected,
unmoved
by our careful plans.
How quickly the experts
explain what happened
once it is over.
How proudly we mistake
our guesses
for truth.
We blame the storm
for refusing
to follow the forecast.
The swan does not argue.
It simply appears,
and reminds us
that certainty
is often borrowed.
Only afterward
do we tell ourselves
we saw it coming.
Leave room
for the impossible.
A map
is not the world.
And somewhere,
beyond what we expect,
the black swan
is already on its way.
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