Sunday, July 13, 2014

Of Even This Decision

I will joy in my despair.
I will celebrate the dark
Taste of utter helplessness,
Knowing that it is the way
Of all things to be helpless.
Even the agents of power
All surrender, however

Unwillingly, to unknown
And unknowable nothing
And are unwoven in time
As time, from nothing, wove them.
I will make my peace with peace
And joy in the unweaving
Of every last decision.

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