Long Lines of Primes

What is self-made?

The mind tries hard

To stuff the quest

In one snug box,

Say, the word God.

But it won’t stick.

The word pops out.

We start out wrong

With the thought things

Are made at all,

That all is caused.

There is no cause.

All is self-made,

And yes, you may,

If you like, add

To that list, God.

Cheer

You are worse than no one,
And that makes you as good

As the rest. You may find
Times when you feel your choice

Is a bad thing or worse.
Could be that bad or worse

Flow from that point once seen
As a part of your past,

But now you have no choice.
You feel past can’t be changed.

Oh, your past can be changed,
Can’t not change, but you’re right,

Your past is not your choice.
The change is not your choice.

Some find peace in the thought
Of death, since then all this

Will be out of their hands.
Good news—some of that peace

Can be yours. It’s all out
Of your hands, past all choice.

Life and death have one soul.
You have no choice in that.

The Way of the Sword

Life might as well be,
Long as life’s had teeth,
And when did it not
Have at least small teeth?

Since when did life not
Cut what lived to feed?
Where are the stone cells
That life did not feed?

The end of the edge
Where life bit at earth
Comes straight to the point.
Death’s how life was birthed.