I could be a conspiracy theorist. I think too much. I analyze too much. And I could convince an Eskimo that he not only needs a refrigerator, but a deep freezer to go with it. I can believe. I can make others believe.
No, I’m not saying I have any power over anyone. Other than the power of manipulation. Not manipulation in the ill sense of the word; just in the sense that if I want you to believe my point or in the very least leave thinking I may be right, I can.
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Picture this: you have a son or a daughter and they are your miracle child; the doctors said you could not have children, but low and behold, here they are. They are perfect and no one will ever tell you otherwise. God gave you this gift and you will treasure it. You make sure this child is well-provided for, is safe, is loved, and is afforded all the things in life that they desire and can be given. Such is parenthood.
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Are we so arrogant that we have to believe that ‘truth’ is ‘relative’ rather than ‘inherent?’ We are egocentric enough to create a hegemony that ensures our rights are protected and yet selfless enough to succumb to ‘relative truth.’
I hesitate to meditate
And ponder who I am.
I’d lose my mind just to find
I’m just another scam.
One life to live, yet to give
A special part of me.
I live to die, not to cry
For love that will not be.
Lost in thought, all distraught,
Running from myself.
I can’t decide; who am I–
I cannot answer well.
Got to know, got to go,
No, stand and hold my ground.
Guard my thoughts, must be lost,
I can’t go another round.
Thoughts unwind, not to bind
Feelings about you.
Stupid stress, but I digress;
What’s a girl to do?
Can’t fight the right, not tonight,
When all I want is you.
One night to try, never lie,
To you I’m always true.