“What is called a reason for living is also an excellent reason for dying.” –Camus
While waiting in line to use a public restroom,
A discussion began about human behavior and personality
Between myself and a tattered old man.
Of course the classic debate of
Escaped our lips
And he disclosed a story
About a young girl
Who was raised as a dog.
He claimed that she was discovered in a basement
Inside a cage. Her mannerisms and attributes
Took on that of a beast. The pain of being human
Relinquished to explore the freedom of survival.
He finished the story blank-
The outcome scattered. Left to be imagined
By my optimistic spirit.
Those who have kind souls
Envision the tips of her fingers
Skimming lily petals,
As she sprints through a meadow
On a summer’s day. Arms stretched
Waiting to hug an invisible love.
Others will sit with her in the cage.
Not contemplating freedom
Because life has no option but to wait for death.
Aesthetics requires a Sisyphean consciousness.
For existential crises will always produce the unbearable burden
Of choice. Right & wrong nothing more than a gamble
Based off how the end result is perceived.
But what ages & kills the soul
Remains our choice.
I like to leave my cage door open.