in reality, Kierkegaard
was right, it is up to each
of us to look back and define ourselves
in the bright lights of reality,
were we cruel, self centered,
lost waylaid , we must take credit
no man made me think
or do or cuss or believe,
not a woman's fantastickness
beauty caused me a thing,
I chose, it was me,
who was weak or strong or cruel,
I had choices and all the clues
the answers though  i may have refused to believe.
But essentially i am neither of those things,
not wise or cruel or brutally honest,
everyday I changed evolved stumbled saw ignored
struggled thrived.
Each sun was anew.
Another chance to right wrongs I ignored
too weak. too unwilling, too afraid.
Absurd how I tend to define
being here, now I have lived, the past just a dream.
described fully by my actions I rationalize away.
I did not choose parents situations, were I a
rich man I might view different the
actions as warranted.
The future is my only action possible.