Two Lives
A decision
Two lives
maybe three
if we are lucky, we get to see
There is a meadow, and a sunset
a crackling fireplace, freshly chopped wood
family to grow and love
time and space, to read and speak and write and feel
Or a different pace, another climb
one where rest can be hard to find
but there we get to be, more than most will ever see
I sit here and think
what is the syllable
what is the path beyond these crossroads
a simple coin toss will not reveal
To seek and seek
can we ever be free
of egos want, a prisoner bound to folly
Or is there a higher calling
a chance to be
At some waypoint down this misty road
we will find our end
and those that see it clearer
than you or I
they will find us waiting
contemplating
and say
There is the angst of indecision, the regret of a path not followed, and the mythos of a door closing that cannot be reopened.
How then do we decide?
Is it possible that the decision itself matters very little?
Our subconscious has already made it.
The internal circuitry that we have set in motion that led us to these crossroads will continue to paint the road ahead.
In other words, the paths ahead differ less than we realize.
It is our habits and our nature that have brought us here, and while we do get to choose who it is we want to be.
