The One Who Chooses

The one who chooses,
One body,
Two choices.

A dichotomy of method.
Many considerations.
I stand here at the crossroads.

The one who chooses.
Connected, united yet also divided.

We stand here,
The choice.

The one who chooses.

Where we are in place.

We. Are the one who choose.

A bit unusual, the inspiration for this poem is a part of a reading, a quote from Wallace Stegner. The quote reminded me of choice and let me imagine, slightly reminded me of Prometheus the movie and the Panspermia theory, and thought about humans and their impact on the planet and how when people say humans are a terrible species. I would always disagree. It is an intelligent species. As with everything with intelligence, it is capable of the most good and terrible things. It is choice that distinguishes us.

“the special human mark, the special record of human passage, that distinguishes man from all other species. It is rare enough among men, impossible to any other form of life. It is simply the deliberate and chosen refusal to make any marks at all… We are the most dangerous species of life on the planet, and every other species, even the earth itself, has cause to fear our power to exterminate. But we are also the only species which, when it chooses to do so, will go to great effort to save what it might destroy.

From: Cronon, William. ‘The Trouble with Wilderness: Or, Getting Back to the Wrong Natue”. Environmental History, Vol.1, No.1, (Jan., 1996), pp.7-28

That Bad Time

Hands shaking,
Breathing shallow and fast.
Mind racing, hurting and dull.
My mind the wasteland, full of pain.
Moving on and past,
In time,
But for now, the pain grasps hold.

Mind taking me away from the present,
Everything taking my attention.
My mind inside itself,
Hiding in pain,
Excruciating torture.

Making an hour feel like 5,
Mind racing and thrashing,
Itself against a wall,
The constant motion.

All reflecting,
In those bad times.

Wrote this a little while ago, just thinking. Thinking about the feeling, of total sadness, and panic of the past. So I guess a storyesque poem.

Feeling better now, did a lot of productive work for later. Friends, always being so kind and helping. One quote I’ve held dear since I was 7 years old, was

“Friends are the family you choose”

Always warms my heart, just thinking of my friends.

Care For A Time

Care in that time, that place.
A sweet kindness,
Nice smile,
Helping hand.
Pure care.

No sweeter moment,
No kinder gesture,
That one of acknowledgement, care, help.
A reminder of the world outside.
For when I am lost, to remember.
Remember the moment,
The kindness, the meaning

My endless care for people so kind.
Kindness deserves rewarding.
Deserved help.
I would always stand,
By the darkest time to make sure,
People are by your side.
Always the time.
Always the care.

Care I try to offer,
Always wish to offer more,
For all you have done,
To help, to save me.

Not a mere, care for a time.
Kindness from my best friend.
The care in times of trouble,
Even as we both face difficulty.

We are always there.
Care for a time.
All the while, there is time.
My promise.
To my best friend,
My kindest friend,
The kindest human.
That I would do anything for,
As you’ve done more than I can even conceive, for me.

Thinking of the best person I know, the person I care about most. Who has always been there. Helped me for so long, made me feel happier recently chatting and hanging out.

This person showed me such kindness today that I cannot explain. Am totally indebted and can’t believe the sentiments.

Truly making me feel happy, determined and great about everything despite any worries.

To stay over in England would be worth it to keep hanging out. Let alone anything else.

My best friend knew I’ve been stressed, busy and worried and brought me a massive food care package. Something I wouldn’t even get from my mum but wouldn’t expect from anyone and she did.

Hope she didn’t put too much effort, or cost. I’d feel bad otherwise. But. It is such a nice gesture, touched me to the core of my soul.