Inputs? There are four:
what my body allows of me,
what the outside world prescribes for me,
what my feelings tempt me toward,
and what my private logic calculates
in dreams and schemes
would clearly speak of me.
Tossed upon the waves and wind
of each and every hour,
One strains to hold set course.
Moments pass. Then, beyond the now,
new data floods the brain.
Grave doubts ensue.
Recalculate! Recalculate!
But, what of the soul I believed myself to be?
Am I now lost, an illusion shattered gone?
My suit in tatters, ripped and torn?
I blink. I gulp. I sweat. Inside, I shiver thru.
Am I of mind to soldier on?
What is it I’ve become?
Pray, what can I do?
Remind me, yes. Inputs are numbered four.
Not one of them has changed.
All rules remain the same.
Listen, learn, recalculate. And then?
I am decisions that I make, that’s all.
My vow? Decide with care,
outcomes I’ll not regret.
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Thursday, September 20th, 2018
Bridgman
MI
USA
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