A Poet's Journal: May 8th, 2014
May 8th, 2014
Worry and apprehension are seated in every task we undertake, becoming a responsibility in themselves, that it is a pleasure to see falsely and have them crumble before us, finally knowing of their misguidance. Yet it is often that this delusion comforts the appearance of judgment, leaving us open to the possibility that anything we choose will eventually become true. Sometimes there is not enough powder in the gun and our plans do not follow through simply because of a too great apprehension of missing the mark; sometimes there is an unmistakable and deadly precision, that we are at a loss of how to describe our arriving at such an outcome. The problem is not that worry and apprehension are inherent in the decision, it is that the decision asks us not to swerve in our judgment, whereupon worry and apprehension become the figments of our imagination. This is the conditioned; what every fact, right or wrong, enforces us to realize everyday in our daily habits--to feel ourselves free and yet not so is also one of its qualities.
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