Chance Is Such A Scornful God

This morning

I heard the black news
of a killer crash
on the Paddington line,

I saw a fragile car
jarred under the stamping wheels
of a red-respecting juggernaut,

I met discordant blue
flashing alarm
on someone
knocked down
and still.

What should I believe?

That Lady Fate is having
'a bad hair day',
so people have to hurt?

Chance is such a scornful God;

our darkest caution
defends against its whim
like castles made of paper.

You do realise Chance,
the God of science,
is the only God to get results?