Choice
It is so hard to make a choice. From the mundane to the heaviest, every choice morphs into a new form of torment.
What to trust. Who to be. Where to go. When to flee. Which perspective to hold, What book to read, When to accept what is told, How to share deepest need. Which... city country school job community What to do. What to be. How to spend a day Which words to say yes no here there me you right wrong lost found empty full up down centered awry create destroy joy pain hope despair night dawn save damn in out back forth leave stay good bad come go Shifting thoughts eluding the grasp taunting then begging to be named and given rest What to do in the time we are within How to be
The eternal question remains: how to choose.
Each option yields its own stream of possibilities and to choose for one seems to be to choose against the others. Within each stream, there is much that is necessary, though different and mutually exclusive; having to lose what could be induces fear and deep insatiable grief. But something will have to be lost, I think, because that is actually the only way that something can ever be gained.
Even not choosing itself is a choice. There is no escape.
To sit in the totality of indecision is to be paralyzed in the chaos, to be locked within the torment of hell– and the only way out
is to choose to leave.
