-- The Question of Choice --
By John Herlihy
Sometimes I think I didn’t have a choice,
About the person that I ended up being.
Destiny can leave us mute, with no voice,
Being blind and thru the blindness seeing.
Whether into riches or into poverty born,
No one would rightly claim I had a choice.
Either male or female, the hem clearly torn,
Equally appointed shares of sorrow and joys.
Choice merely a coin at the mercy of fate,
Things happen as the result of random toss.
We wish to come on time, but arrive late,
We invest in a sure thing, but end up in loss.
The question of choice rears its ugly head,
We think we have a choice, only we don’t.
Thru the eye of the needle a lonely thread,
Forced into some choices, only we won’t.
We think we have choice but are they real,
Or are we but puppets dangling on strings.
The road taken many hidden factors conceal,
The end of the road our destination brings.
Think wisely the next time you must choose,
Am I just seeing blind or am I blindly seeing.
To accept your fate, you have nothing to lose,
The choice of being yourself as a way of being.
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Copyright ©John Herlihy
Monday 25 September 2023
When I think about it, and why I wrote my autobiography, I was born poor, but rich and at the right time for so many reasons. While fate dealt me a bad blow at 20, throughout my life even though I made bad decisions, I've been lucky in so many ways I wanted to recount.
Now, looking back over all those years, I'm at ease with them. Decisions I made could have made my life much richer financially, but I doubt if it would have made me happier or healthier.
Ron
Love ya!
Jane