Ourselves We Do Not Owe, Or, On Expectation Wielded (revised & completed)

 

(a revision & completion)

Ourselves, We Do Not Owe

(Or, On Expectation Wielded)

Like a prophesy recursive, the present condition will frame future chance

with a dependence most sensitive upon the initial, same, unknowns

So my projected, misinterpreted, sometime wrong exquisite dance

may be damning me as surely as were I Dylan's Mr. Jones --

--- at least didn't know.  Or did he? The heart confident & loyal

may  all-too-human be, perverse, perfection find in such;

but: he damns himself who thinks it curst, yet watches water boil -- 

for watching changes nothing --- if, in fact, you watch.

& Watch I did, & watch I have, for days it seemed I stared

Alone,  in twos, in crowds, indeed — within, without, withal —

Never found a  present perfect I could prove for certain shared

But always found my means of observation at the center of it all.

Character is Fate, born of the quotidian, perforce;

To True My Self  I conjure my True Will anew: O Fate! Show me thy force.

"...Fate show thy force

Ourselves we do not owe

What is decreed will be

& be this so..."

William Shakespeare 

Twelfth Night, or, What You Will