---

Five stories down, in the gutter
Quavering street light softly gestures
Drawing my eye to a figure
Huddled and silent as the night

What is my obligation?
Who is this stranger to me?
Contemplate consequence of the way that we may intervene in the life of a soul.
Left alone, would they not choose to be unabridged?
Would I not interfere with their path should I stand in the way?

Could they have been,
Asking for this?
Might they deserve,
All they receive?

Does my own moral compass point true north?
Who says intuition is a trusted source?

Perception
contrasted
against the
objective
reality seems
so frail it's silencing

Being one among billions - Meaningless

But if I muster all I have
could it even make one indentation
Upon the mindless machine
Unstoppable, for which we are all but fuel

With the morning sun
Sirens scream their song out

The figure
Now lifeless
Is bagged up
And dragged away

Have I participated in the scheme of fate?
Or have I squandered time that might have altered it?

All Exists
As It Should
Surrender

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