My Words

Am I not my words? Think deeply before your speak. Body and soul, mind and heart, forged by space and time, genetics and circumstance, fate or divine reason, or the vagaries of chance. My actions and thoughts themselves are a product of forces I cannot control. Or, if I insist that I command, the orders I issue and position of power, were given to me before I could consent. So what is unique? What is me? I am a shadow - a reflection of all else. Another vaporous cloud in the sky-space of reality, blown by wind into shapes I never really choose. Yet ... there is this yearning, this fire that rebels against the will of the machine. If I was born of order, why do I defy the authority of nature? If I was born of chaos, there is nothing in control - but at the least my desire to choose still remains. So I am my desires, I should think. Not my appetites, but my deepest conceptions of how things ought to be ... perhaps there is nothing special in that. But I can write of my desires, even if they cannot be. Thus, is it not obvious that what you read now is me? Written 18 July 2020