Choices

Close your eyes, my friends, and imagine

that you stand before the gates of heaven and hell.

Now pretend that they look the same,

that you cannot tell them apart.

Before you are two guardians,

one a liar, the other honest.

If you had but one question, what would you ask of them?

Would you beg? Would you plead

for guidence that will not come?

Or would you resign yourself to this abyss,

this purgatory between worlds thinking,

"Anything must be better than hell."

Or perhaps you are the one who would want to turn back,

even the riches of heaven dimminished before the treasures of this life.

I know, as many of you undoubtedly do,

the answer to this aged riddle.

But even should I be blind to the truth,

I think that I would tread on ahead.

For you see, this is what is most precious to me,

the fickle hand of fortune, the uncertain and unknown.

For it is in the abyss of uncertainty that our choices shine brightest.

We are most free when the darkness claims us,

when there is no one and nothing to guide our feet.

So it is with this resolve I choose to live my life,

a man whose only standard is the mirror of his heart.

Whether I obtain the riches of Solomon,

or languish, alone and forgotten,

I will know that my choices are my own.