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Feb 2014
There is something so tragic about being human,
we strive for the stars,
reaching upward,
but all we do is fail,
we are born imperfect with imperfect temperament,
and made imperfect through our own design,
there is something inherently wrong within us,
a mistake that alleles cannot shape,
a mistake that our parents,
despite their most urgent wishes,
cannot break,
a mistake so large that none are exempt,
and often we curse God,
blaming someone we've never known,
for the misfortune that festers in our hearts,
and when it comes down to it,
I don't think that,
even if he does exist,
that it is entirely his fault,
for although he mixed foolish,
and immature spirits in the same vat,
the disease is intrinsic,
and God did not make our spirits,
though perhaps through nimble hands,
he made us whole,
bodies tempered for pain and loss,
but we are the root of the evil,
there is no Devil at the source,
though influence us he might,
and so our stories are tragic,
we do what we can,
and then we die,
and maybe that's not the end of the story,
but if someone tells you they're not afraid of death,
they're lying,
few if any know what waits at the end,
the end of the path we as humans create,
but we have no choice,
there is no price that can shake the sorrow from our shoulders,
no payment large enough to replace our experience,
no substitute for the change we feel,
the love we feel,
the pain we feel,
and the loss inherent in life,
so I say live and let live,
but keep in mind the influence you have,
for good or for bad,
and keep your chin up,
set your jaw,
and cast your eyes towards the sky,
and the heavens above.
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
AP Beckstead 2014
Written by
AP Beckstead 2014  Utah
   Stephanie miller and AJ
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