Is our future already written? Is that why some of us suffer, because we see glimpses of what’s to come. While others are blind to it. Living happy but blind to what lays ahead.
No of course not. Just another theory my messy mind has come up with to justify my avoiding, and testing myself in anxious situations. Giving up instead of increasing the effort.
Whatever is true, whatever the ending, make the beginning and middle honest, happy and true.
Change The Ending
The mind is adept at its own pretence
When a foreseeable ending claws at its sense
Rapid spate of change is hard to allow
Crystal clear thoughts, deviate from the brow
An uncontrolled destined moment in time
Perspectives of honesty bring up the divine
Amnesiac spaces previous and after
Brings the transition, not nearer nor faster
Change sparks defence to raise fully clad
Denial, like a sane man humouring the mad
A rapid such ending wretches the soul
Pulls what we possess to never let go
Our sleepless gut instinct, repulses the last
Repelling an echo of struggles near past
For even the efficient an ending feels strange
A limbo state not desiring to change
An unconscious unknown steadily beckons
Lifetime of intake, although its just seconds
Confusion is ripe though doesn’t persist
Without endings your presence wouldn’t exist
On ponder a moment which presents a choice
An alternate view to retain a lost voice
Reflect to proceed, an perceptive mind wins
Determine an ending is where a new first begins.