True Eyes

Through mist; shadows walk
Clarity vanished long ago
Flickering screens; tired eyes
Seeing only what they allow

Truth has been discouraged
Eyes forward; silence is golden
Speak only when spoken to
The words they want to hear

True Eyes watch the madness
Actions without consciousness
Repeating all the words of old
Failure then will never work now

Stoic Poetry



I once believed I had a choice
That each of us had free will
That who I became was up to me
I once believed 

I once believed I made a difference
That somehow things could change
That choices I made could stem the flow
I once believed

I once believed our right to be
That the good in others would prevail
That in the end it would all make sense
I once believed

I once believed there was a reason
That others shared in common
That it all would become clear in time
I once believed



A world so unstable, a life so in flux
Facing the inevitable, believing too much
As our best laid plans never fall into place
A life of uncertainty, while hopes are defaced

Fear and despair, the flavour of the day
Some resign, they may even kneel to pray
A sign, a little help, from beyond their grasp
Laying blame, repeating sins of their past

At night we lay our heads down to rest
Into dreams that will never deny our request
The true nature of change, we may finally see
This life of free will, just as it’s needed to be

Stoic Poetry

Force Of Will

Art courtesy uf:

I am the force of free will
forged of desire
fate having no dominion 
my path is my own

No one to blame
the immovable object
becoming unstoppable force
my actions stand alone

Fault no man
look inward for truth
your lot the fault of no other
accept who you are, never atone

Freedom to choose
never given but always taken
the path less travelled 
destinies course not yet known

Stoic Poetry

The Cross

Deaths solace, silence, harsh words of fears unknown
Dread not the reaper who beckons
Unwelcome cross, mark not my threshold

Belief shall grant no safe passage
Condemned self righteous, what right to steal souls?
In whose name is derision doled?

Contemptuous harbinger of tidings best left unspoken
Thus spake Zarathustra, eternal recurrence
Indoctrinating endless opportunity

Offer up the gift to those who see and have seen
Antiquity replaced by living stigmata
Life as an individual choice by fate

Stoic Poetry