Why are we here?
From what shore did we roam?
Where do we go—
this path, unknown?
We claim to know,
yet still, we're led astray,
our compass spinning,
night replacing day.
At least, once or twice,
we've been deceived,
God or gods,
their names used to mislead.
But who shaped the devil,
who crafted the seed of sin?
Who let evil's shadow
creep in?
I commend the souls
who grasp why they stand,
whose footprints carve
eternity in sand.
But still, I ask—who bears the blame?
The messenger, whose hand
stayed from blood,
the child spared
from fate's cruel flood?
Or the gods who whispered,
foretold the day
the child would slay
his father, and marry
his mother's clay?
If pity spares,
then is it sin?
If killing’s righteous,
where do we begin?
Do we curse the gods,
deny the fates,
or claim that destiny's hand
is just too late?
How do we walk
a road with no end in sight,
a journey where shadows
outrun the light?
Why should mercy
turn to shame,
and murder
wear justice's name?
Forgive my many questions,
I swim in an ocean of doubt,
yet decision is the tide
we cannot live without.
We drink from it,
bathe in its swell,
it lifts us high,
it drowns us well.
It feeds the soul,
it fires the mind,
decision is the river
in which we're confined.
Bound to our choices,
tethered to fate,
it builds paradise,
it opens hell’s gate.
Yet often, our choices
are not our own,
we do not choose
where we're first shown.
We do not pick
our birth, our start,
nor the hands that cradle
our tender heart.
Even if we did,
it’s done in the dark,
blind to reason,
deaf to the spark.
So no matter where you stand,
decide.
Hold tight to your choice,
for it's yours to abide.