One could be a moth
Or midday butterfly,
A deceitful demon
Or a cherub on Eden's sky.

An enclosed cellar
Or an open book,
Bittersweet venom
Or a milk and honey scoop.

One shall have a choice
of to be or not be,
Facing one's own path.
Call it destiny.

There is a daily choice
Opened to be selected
Between what's right or wrong
To stand straight, or to be deflected.

But then again life's more than
A black and white selection,
where 'pro's and 'no's run
to create one's subjective reflection.

So we are the sums of our choices
no matter if they're right or wrong,
and doomed to be constantly living
with both beauty and chaos along.