What is better, something left up to chance or something to choices superiority?
You see time, the Mistress of authority.
Sitting up on her throne, dealing you a chance laid in your majority.
I look in and see, a chance dealt seldom laid to but in minority.
So, a future that could lay greener, or an assured decentness. Which takes priority?
I must take these decisions seriously, before it must be dealt in Parental seniority.
But, my words now are vague and dealt in inferiority.
To the realities and it’s sentence to us mortals, maintained posterity.
But the question remains, do I take it or leave it?
Life is laid on its toes, forged in assurity. Never is it found boringly.
Those moments of silence are well earned, acts of charity.
But silence drives the loud men mad, they seek clarity.
“Where oh where will I be brought today?” Asked in fear and a voice spoken drearily.
But, must I force my own hand, Or are there things laid out already forcefully?
I see this future, and it has me dressed out in a suit made formally.
But, my choices and my sense of right and wrong are decimated horribly.
But there she lies, away from mystery and its surprises known horridly.
If I were to give up my quest, I could live out my life normally!
Little am I stable towards change, an attitude ornery.
But all I have to do is surrender, and sit in piety.
And in that slowed down version of life, quite possibly,
With her I would have children that would know the meaning of Organized Purity.
But, what is the quality?
This vision haunts me now, it’s presence in rarity.
However, the beauty of life is it’s finite nature and it’s mystery, change rewards me with sanity.
After time it does, comfort is dealt sparingly.
But she and I know of this confirmed future, but to live in verity!
I want to live good and true. To her, I mean this statement in no asperity.
But a life laid out is one laid out in atrocity.
But, if I fail I hope that I will never have the audacity
Hope I have that I will never go in wrongful conformity.
There is someone better for her, but those who aren’t appear often despairingly.
Her beautiful face, our wondrous life. Look at it empirically.
The children are ours, shared in a sense of equality.
And our love is hinted now, but assured then in finality.
I just have to reach out my hand in trust of futurity.
But what of previous mishaps, those shown historically?
Surely this mustn't be so! I draw back my hand slightly inquiringly.
“Must time show me itself in lines and not layers? It is of planes and not plainess. No linearity!”
But the Mistress of Time whispers, “These things are true only in your sense of maturity.
If you are ready to make these things be, then real will this become.” I sensed the severity.
I saw my possible Children, and me and her with them. Looking as if we knew it all along.
But I, could not live in that society.
She desired, no deserved a Pious, Christian man. But who am I who rests in vulgarity?
That is a form of me, an Echo. I am still bridled in Immaturity.
Many of you will mark this as an inexcusable case that ensures my notoriety,
“Choose this great life!” That is against who I will become. I suspect it Reassuringly.
But I still look down the always open vision into this life from time to time in curiosity.
How would I act as this Father of them? Husband of hers? Bridled in insecurity?
I will always tear myself away in tears. I am Individuality.
I learn from it, but I am Individuality.
I look at my happy face, but I am Individuality.
I know that is rightful in it’s wayward being. Am I Individuality?
Legacy lies languidly, laying lovingly lopsided on lethargic lovers.
I smile at myself, this could be me.
I cannot fathom it
I can control it.
I close my eyes and turn to Mistress Time
“No More. Close it.”
“This is Mercy, accept your wonderful life.”
“This is his life, I don’t want to create this foundation on my faulty being.”
“You will mature with time, you must and you will.”
“Must you trivialize yourself Mistress? I know your tricks, this is me.
But I am me, and I must decide to be me. I know that it seems good
But what of the strife? The undecided variables?
I love her too much to make her succumb to me.
But I love her too much to let this vision go.”
Mistress Time, awarded me with the ability to see this vision at my will.
To look upon this possible future.
And to always allow myself to come back to it
“Life can’t be Deterministic, this must be wrong.
And I will never know, for by even viewing it I may have set it aloft.
I hold strong against Determinism, Mistress Time must have entrapped me.”
I went to her side again,
“Mistress Time, how must you exist throughout everything as a single being?”
“I am only but a figment, a being of profound representation.
I am not time, but I speak on its behalf.
My powers are limited, as time is molded.
That vision is not real in this plane, but in another you could be approaching it is.
This future could exist for you, I showed it to you because I wanted you to see it.
To see that you could aspire to be this Father in this life or another.
To see that you could reach it or avoid it.
I understand your love for her, and if you do denounce your secular ways
I show you this as a way to continue on.”
She disappeared from among me, and her essence entered my mind.
I envisioned her, as my entity for time.
She speaks for what I understand, and I was speaking to myself.
I do not know what will lead to that future
But what I do know is that I will continue on as if I were to normally.
Making mistakes, and being ignorant.
I will not take this as divine intervention.
No future is that clear cut and predictable.
But if it does end up that I progress in such a way rightfully, then I will have no anger.
I will not push anyone out of character, but rather ride this wave of existence the best I can.
I look at whom I love, and back to me.
I love her in a way that transcends time.
But, if this future were to be not realized by our real persons.
Then I would not wish it upon us.
So, I rest the case and the vision out of my mind.
And continue my journey.
I am Individuality.
Long story short, even before me and my Ex ever got together, I doubted it would work. She implored, and against my gut feeling we got together. Saw how that turned out. A poem about my doubt before it happened. (Ax7 -}B bx2 Bx5 bx1 B bx8 Bx3 bx6}-}bx6}w*x3 l*A%}[Dialogue])