The slow count

I've begun the slow count
    to the next starry night.
The last I've seen the blinking lights
were when I promised that
I would find the right kind of life
                        for me.
And that was seasons ago.
I don't remember the last time
I ventured to look into the
depths of God's flickering firmament.
I don't remember how many times
that I did, and was met
with frowning clouds,
                          content to deny me the chance
                            to see the stars change.
A certain knight once said that
                             a man can change his stars.
For each moment where I'm left
                            to choose,
hammers my constellation into
                        a preferable shape.
                       I choose,
and like a sword forged
to reflect blinking night,
 it forms a sharp, permanent blade.
That is fate, I suppose:
a sequence of steps,
               winding roads,
           and branching paths
that close off into a list
                             of what-if's, maybes,
                             and points of no return.
                                          I said I've begun the slow count
                                                    to the next starry night.
                               It's nearing the end of that, I think.
                                            I can see the shape
                                    of the right kind of life
                        God has guided out for me.
             All the stars are shining.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure if it's entirely clear that I made the concept of stars as a motif for one's path in life. I guess you'd have to watch "A Knight's Tale" to get what I'm trying to drive at.

Cheers!