Is it Strange?

Is it strange to believe

that by some miraculous chance,

we were born special?

Or that by an unexpected coincidence,

we already are that which

we long to become?

Is it peculiar that our seemingly meaningful thoughts

may actually solely be the mind 

fooling us into thinking we make sense?

Or might it just be a tiny bit odd

that our hopeless dreams

are built on the very foundations of hope itself?

You might perhaps find it questionable

that our hearts can pair up instantaneously 

and relish on the idea that we have supposedly discovered our soulmates.

Or, in fact, could it be that the incredulous notion

of everything falling into place in the end,

might have credit due to it after all?

What shall it be, my dear? Strange?

I think so.