No Choice
There I sit, sitting in a state of hesitation and so I wait, waiting for that day, that moment, so precise and controlled that not from whom thy know but from whom thou can see thee fit formally for thine's forgiveness.
It's evolutionary falling so into place with the past making way with precision to the present determining one's future so quickly, unnerving.
It's ravishing like a river flowing from the peeking point so passionately passing over walls falling possessively, mastering and taking anything in it's wake, just absorbing that not of which can be seen, but that which only listens and moves with the rushing, so determined.
Call it crazy, but don't you see thy's path is set already.
No matter the actions, the people we meet you think thy has a choice, for a rushing waterfall does not choose, it just flows and the events occur natural disruptions to the flow changes thy's course and the water adapts to a new bend in the river.
It does not choose for it can't.
It just flows flawlessly, uncontrollably, so predictable.
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