The Gift and the Choice

When you can see your future,
How do you choose?

Every option has suffering.
Every path leads to death.

Exponentially branching,
Your vision fades,
The deeper you go.

You can’t hold it all.
You don’t have the processing power.

It hurts you, this gift.
You feel it all, all at once.

So you block it,
Mentally put a stop to it.
You turn away from it,
And curse it.

This leaves you dull,
Blind to the beauty of your choice,
The choice you made,
The choice to turn your gift off.

For there is still life,
There is still love,
Vivid, like a flower in the dirt.

If you only knew
how to look.

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This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence

I Am Constant Change

Who am I other than constant change?

Thoughts come and go,
Same with emotion, memory and desire,
I am not who I was a moment ago,
And who I am won’t last.

I am constant change,
I am the thread of time,
Birth to death,
Ever changing,
Ever growing,
Never the same.

I am constant change,
I accept this change,
Embrace it,
Lean into it.

Therefore I won’t delete my past,
It was me,
Just as much me as my desire to delete it,
Who knows what I will think in four minutes?

I am constant change.

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This poem is from the book Reflections of the Self, The Poetry, Insights, and Wisdom Of Silence