the fall: glory and sh*t

in the humid heat of the circumstantial moment, there are choices but none, surrender on your knees or die an unknown martyr, but, to crumble and to cream out an unthinkable solution, the same old trodden path picked by wise and fools alike, albeit by different intellects, logic, conscience or virtues, any among these or anything more. to know that the road is long but the journey short; to know that time is running on and stumble you may not; to see that you could stop and do the chores and leisure be yours; all the while to also see that you would gamble your own and loss is sure; and the end i can not fathom, the beginning must already have begun and why can't a captivating white light descend from heaven? why should i stand to lose everything i love?