The world—it wisps us to and fro,
while its reasons it whispers not.
It delights in birth and death,
by the process of growth & rot.
By the skeleton in my being,
and the muscle on my bone,
I’m a temporary creature,
whose living on my own.
Without a sure rationale,
and without a map of how,
I’m left to walk my own path,
and discover what I will.
“Change” and “temporary”…
the conditions of my state.
And somewhere in between these lines,
grow emotions I can’t escape.
Love and Faith and Hope,
propel me towards my ends.
Where from did they arise, friend?
With them, where should I begin?
Before you speak, will you agree:
One small goal at a time; each day’s unique;
With each foot forward, use my eyes to see;
One’s cobbled path is laid with bricks,
… of “choice” and “opportunity”.
…unfinished.
Posted by bell at April 2, 2008 09:17 PM | TrackBack