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Bonnie Mar 2
How many instances have I passed through, completely unaware that the simple act of choice, any choice, or even no choice at all, will set a precedent for chaotic movement forward into a future that I could not even have guessed at. How unpreparedly have I been given this power, the ultimate freedom to control and shape my own destiny. More than that though, the absolute freedom to at any and every moment change course and alter my own future forever. Wouldn't it have been easier to move trustingly into a life where fate has stretched out a rail that we ride on to a destination planned and known.



These are the existential thoughts that wake me at times. My mind worries at feelings that seem to be very much ignored or unnoticed by everyone around me. Today it is Possibility. In fact the proposition of infinite possibility.



This compelling facet of human consciousness winds all of my life up into a tangle of both hope and also anxiety, both absolute freedom and yet crushing responsibility.



I just like everyone else I was born new and empty, unchartered and alone in my emerging awareness and howling my confusion at a complex and indifferent universe. The crux of it is, if dwelt on there is no conclusion but to become aware that all of humanity is first censured then condemned to the breath catching realization that we are free to decide our own path and with every choice whether conscious of it or not shape all future existence. The sheer number of paths to choose can halt us to freeze at the cliff’s edge paralyzed by indecision.



The infinite nature of all possibility implies that there is no singular way to set a course, no correct way to live. I feel dizzy at this and have a headache.



So is there any meaning at all to be found. Clearly humans have always searched for this as both individuals and as a collective solace this has has been constructed carefully by means of cultural behaviours and ancient beliefs. Meaning and order and purpose is formed for us and around us. Perhaps meaning is not a thing that is given but must be actively searched for or constructed. Can I craft any meaning in a world that seems devoid of any inherent purpose.



I have the capacity to review past time to reflect upon my past. Perhaps choices made and courses altered. Memories and experiences undoubtedly shape our perception of all possibilities before us. Perhaps that means for us a choice we may have made remains unexplored. Because we have clear sight of what is past but only a limited grasp of our future, it’s like a confusing mess of shadow and light, half understood implications and inference, We are doomed to be pulled into the unknown.



As I move to the kitchen do begin my day these thoughts and more, much more beset me, trouble me and wear me down. Maybe coffee will help or not, I just don’t know anymore.
a narrative that delves deep into the existential theme of infinite possibility. Capturing the angst and awe that comes with understanding freedom and the limitless potential of choice.
© BonnieBayGallery 2025
Melanie Feb 25
all I know how to do is love
my bones ache to care
and I'm not sorry for trying
even if you didn't deserve it
I deserve the chance
Maryann I Feb 23
The past dissolves like ocean spray,
Its echoes fade, then drift away.
A canvas bare, so pure, so wide,
With endless colors yet to ride.

A door unlocked, a step begun,
A dawn that wakes beneath the sun.
No fear, no weight, just open air,
A chance to live without a care.

So take the brush, embrace the hue,
The world is fresh, the sky is new.
Each moment calls, each heartbeat sings,
A future bright with endless wings.
8. New Beginnings and Fresh Starts
What's the probability of probably?
Is the square root of attraction,
You and is the variable me?
You're wicking me out,
All my facts start to feel like fiction,
And 2+2 is starting to look more like you.
Haven't written anything new in a hot minute. Been focusing on her.
showyoulove Dec 2024
Maybe it's the sun, but maybe you're the one of whom I'm dreaming
Maybe it's not real, but this is how I feel: my soul you're redeeming
Maybe it's just sound, but maybe I have found a love that's unending
Maybe it's the air, but maybe you are there I'm constantly depending
Maybe it's war, but maybe it's worth living for
It's time to take a stand
Maybe I'm kneeling, and maybe you're healing
With a touch of your hand
I come bowed and broken, hearing words so softly spoken
Teach my heart and heal my soul
For sin exacts a heavy toll
But a deal was made, the debt was paid
As water and blood flowed free
Now at long last, no longer slave to my past
What do you see in me?
Given a second chance, at Blessed romance
I know not why or how
But maybe it's enough just to live in your love
For it's all that I have now
Jeremy Betts Apr 2024
Does a poem write itself?
Do they exist before created?
In essence, existing all around us
Absorbed into the psyche
Processed through the brain
Sent to a hand
Finished through the tip of a pen
Too then again
Be consumed by another human person
Producing a new translation
A different interpretation
But there's limits to randomization
Will we ever get to the point where every thought has been expressed?
Every possible sentence arrangement has been recorded and sent to the press?
Is there still the possibility that an original thought can be had?
It's a silly concept but maybe
One day writers block will be victorious
There's only so many different ways that these words can be organized into
Though, I can't imagine what that'll look like
When every thought has been thought through
When nothing's new
Will it still continue?

©2024
louella Oct 2023
dusty window sills; my innocence lost
desert inhabitable leaves no cause.
lifeboats left in the middle of ocean;
salt-licked bony ribs rapid in motion.
pretending so that life seems easier.
undecided, seventeen, pleasing her.
a bleak room haunted by sunken ghost ships
autumn leaves in gutters; i still lose it.
rivers dried up, lake evaporated.
plain truth on my tongue, i just can’t say it.
yet underneath there is a tiny ember;
flesh of hope, flash of what i remember.
from the vessel, i catch glimpse of dry land.
pulling the bow upon the shore, i can.
kind of a sonnet or whatever, not really. i’m bad at writing poetry anymore. searows inspired the rest of this poem. guard dog.

started writing: 10/15/23
published: 10/22/23
leeaaun Feb 2023
what if you are not
the only one
waiting
for
love?

what if your
soulmate
has been
destined
with the
same
wait?

will you consider
the possibility
of this
what if?
Each and every drop
Won't change anything

Tiny bit of yours
Maybe won't feel a thing

How is it possible
For you to turn and tell

Was it the game of life
Forces you to make that choice
Jarret M Spiler Mar 2018
If you ever find yourself laying in bed,
With the lights down,
Unable to fall asleep,
Close your eyes...

Follow the abstract nature of the world you seek,
When you walk through the hallways of your eyes,
Infinity seems like a good possibility.
Work in progress; this peom is about Infinity and its possibility.
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