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This poem explains itself. It needs to be read to be understood. No amount of explanation can be a good replacement for this poem.

Choices to be Made

10600587_10204764587811044_3323353174422219428_nby Devin Mitchell Durbin23 Jul 2013

You would think of the approximation of time
Cause and effect, as wherein the purpose of life
And death, is the same as the ebb and the flow
Of the oceans, and the sunlight, blazing over us and
Down upon our necks it beats away to find
The source for all of our un-forgiven fears. Whereas
We continue blindly into the continuum focusing
Not on the progress, but on the disconnected
Algorithms of cause and effect that have lead us
Streaming, screaming, gallivanting directly forth
On the never-ending cycle of birth, death, and living.
Proof of what we have always known that as
Mortal and scared things we hold some truths
To be sacred and eternal despite our fears of
Divine retribution on the eve of our destruction.
We are the sainted children of all time,
Who have the terrible power to live, to breathe,
And to die… But death is not the end,
Nor is it the beginning, it is the always was
The nevermore, the unforgotten, never happened.
Where we see between the cracks into constant
Stream of conscious of what ifs, wherefores, and
What nows? So we can sit back and Idly take
What has been given in the moorings of a new life,
As we come across a new ocean to traverse.
New questions come to light of life, liberty, and love
The simple strands of life that repeat constantly over
And over weaving their tendrils of existence throughout
The fabric of said life, upon which this Earth is lived
Once, but continues echoing vibrantly in the heads of
Those who live on, born out of sync of each other,
They are the ones that continue forth the new ideas,
Born out of the bosom of death, as it has always been.
Our fear subtracts from our destination, but not the path
No, but the fear of plummeting unknowingly into the abyss
Frightens even the most hardened of souls;
Even those who have seen the brink of despair, and
Have come back to impart the tale, their legacy,
Upon those who are less fortunate to initiate
The interdimensional trek from past to future,
That leads us ever presently through the vast confines
Of the here and now, the present, the point in time
Where everything is old, new, and constant.
Where our eyes are blinded by the oncoming lights,
While once our head is turned we see the past as it is
A convoluted mess of mix-matched pieces,
A menagerie of meaningless notions, wonderful ideas
And the lives of those who have seen too little, too much,
And have yet had the time to realize the purpose of such life
Wherein we are the creatures of great power, and love,
We are also great bringers of danger, death, and destruction.
At our call are fearful taints of anger and fear,
That cause us to destroy those that we hold so dear.
What is the cause, what keeps us from making the good decision?
Why is it impossible to decide what is right, not only for us,
But those people whom we care about? Who we may so even love,
So much more than ourselves, and so unsure of our motives
What do we do, but take the liberty of continuing on aimlessly
Letting situational points in time come to pass, while we sit
Waiting, constantly waiting, for something that we don’t know
It could never be, or may have already come to pass, but as a species
We avoid those constraints of progress, and identity, so much that
We cannot see the future, so we have to have faith
That what we choose will work out for the greater good,
But the greater good, that’s a whole other idea entirely, a story
For a different day; because right now you can’t worry about that.
How can you work for the greater good while your life is moving?
While it is going forward without you? Get going now,
You have choices to be made.