At last,
Abashed at the rash decisions of my heart,

The crash amassed the crass dealings of my past,
Fast,
The class to mask the blast,

Hide.

~Robert van Lingen

The heart and mind can not be locked away.
Prisoners are eventually set free
and so they wait for the day they will be
But mind and heart have never known delay.
They do not rest until our final sleep
And neither of them on one subject stay
But flit about with every whim each day
Once the path of one is taken, we reap
The scorn of the second, until we tire
Of paths which we had chosen. In faith, leap
To reach green grass along a brighter creek.
Then see that we have lost all we sired
The young are dragged along by heart's desire
without the skill to tame passion's fire

I don't mean to sound ungrateful,
I know what I have;
i know how it feels to be in love,
I know how it feels to be settled.

Better than that,
I am accepted as I am,
and at face value,
I have my charms.

What is troubling me,
is the ceaseless confliction,
I am indecisive.

Yes I have found love and
I am content?

Yes, I know that he is ideal.
But my inebriated, fickle soul wants
exactly the opposite.

I get a rush,
blood surges to the surface,
vibrating throughout,
when I brush past boys I don't love,
boys that I don't need;
I feel like myself again.

I don't mean to sound ungrateful,
I know what I have.
He is wonderful, he is whole -
he accepts me for who I am;
it's just a shame that I do not.

The ancient word for hesitation.
Twisting and turning in your three-dimensional mind like a maze
till the ball of string you carry gets all tangled up.

Perhaps I should be more decisive...
Maybe I should me more conclusive...
Make up my mind like a bed and then,
maybe I should lay in it. Assert myself.
Treat life like a chess board.

Make my moves through my own devices
and not rely on the intervention of higher forces,
or guardian spirits to pilot my choices,
or sit uncomfortably on fences waiting for the fates
To push me either side.

Tweogan.
It is reassuring to know it's an age old phenomenon.
That even our ancestors were predisposed to
rock to and fro in fevers of doubt and indecision.
That our ancestors would dabble in-between conscientious visions;
caught in anxious possibilities and cautious projections.

The hidden threads of back and forth thought
all forgotten by hindsight's way of portraying
a seamless fluidity to the embroidery of life.

I've been told
To listen to my heart,
To refrain from logical comparison.
Because when you heart is concerned,
Emotions don't follow the rules.
That is their strengths,
That is their beauty,
That is the danger.

But this heart doesn't know what to feel,
And when it asks the mind,
The mind only tells the heart
Why either of them can't decide.
Buy when the heart can't decide,
It asks the mind,
Lest it hurt,
Till it give up.

You're wrong you know.
You're not afraid of crossroads,
Not confrontations,
It's not indecision
Or fear of failure,
You have no issue with regret.
You're wrong,
And being wrong is not the problem,
It's not liberty that afflicts you,
Or binds you,
Roots you to this place.
You're wrong,
And though you're tired
That's not the reason,
You have no real desire to give up.
And society, your friends,
Your loved ones are blameless,
It's not the past that puts the pit
Of doubt cemented in your core.
The future is uncertain
But you know that's not
The burden
That incites rebellion
Throughout your body
Leaves you
Fighting with yourself.
You're all wrong,
Because you understand the solution,
You know the puzzle of the present,
the senselessness,
The answer that they give
Has no function
No relevance
No possibility
No relief.
To live life in the present,
To embrace it,
breathe it in,
To ignore the thoughts that cloud
All action,
To make the most of the moment right at hand--
Is Impossible

For the present is a fiction
They are wrong
It can't be measured
There is only past or future
The now does not exist.
Each “moment” that you visit
Is braided
To past and future,
Demands study and reflection
Impacting everyone and everything.
Every “moment” that you speak of is
Not an individual,
Has no uniqueness,
Scarcity and rarity are imposters--
All is all.
Each person past and future,
Every worm and every atom
Every thought and every planet
Singularities
Intertwined with molecular precision,
And every insignificant
Decision
Is momentous
By design.
The reason,
The answer,
The solution for which you're searching,
The misunderstanding
That's been floating beneath the surface
Of your mind,
The resolution to the question the never ending
And unnerving
The unyielding perplexity
That has you yielding to the ebbing flowing tide
Is that you are not an individual,
You are not uniquely different
You are not a figment
Or a stain or an error
You are not a wink of time.

The reason that the crossroads gives you pause,
Doubt,
Fear, anxiety,
The reason that indecision sometimes
Seems to be the guiding force in every moment
Every magnified, sensationalized
Magic nothing in your life--

Is that you are all,

You are everything,

Now, and then, and when,
You are forever,
You are purpose of all itself,
You are every universe
You are an infinite infinity
Divinity resides in everything you do.
And everyone you see, and interact with,
Everyone you love and hate,
Admire,
Everyone you have forgotten
Everyone you'll never know
Every stone and every sinew
Every straw and every beetle
Every drop of blood that flows from heart to heart
Or spills from any soul,
Every all and every anything is affected by your now.


You are not afraid of insignificance, your instinct
Knows
The truth though you ignore it—

The responsibility you fear is
The magnificence of you.