We do and then again we do not do
and are we ever fully wide aware
of what we're doing, pricked when up we screw
by stinging contemplative conscience bare.

Endure for choices other there are none
except illusions of a future realm
with second chances bright of races here not run
untouched by pains that pleasures overwhelm.

Express in face the longings of the heart
or face the world detached a lonely soul
devoid of mixtures curious that start
uncovering the joys we can control.

We each have placed the sharps where most they hurt
and daily wash Sebastian's blood-stained shirt.

- Robert Stone, 29 August 2010