november and still green

all history boils down to who we are
each of us products of contingent fact
the cards in all their rows are ever stacked
against our hopes we make and then we mar
so many things there is a constant war
all of our lands with terrors have been racked
these choices are all consequent on act
we set our sights upon the brightest star
the sun tells us as much as we could know
about the day and what it might contain
and then we each set out and add our spin
so much to do under the steady glow
so many things to fill up each small brain
while each of us vainly expects to win