PATHS THAT DON’T RHYME

for Rhonda

Was Pandora’s Box bestowed
By the last of the Titans
Who simply thought better
Than to soil his own hands?

Maybe Zeus filled it
Full of vices he knew
In his superior wisdom
She could never eschew?

Or was it a coffin
Her own shell innate,
With a first glance
At our shared fate?

Could it have reflected
All the apples Eve could see
Twinkling in the eyes
Of Adams’ family tree?

Is it at least possible,
And maybe even sure,
That her box was empty
Before that peek so demure?

Schrödinger’s cat, dead
And alive at the same time
One too many paths
Simply fail to....