Anastasya Shepherd

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Tag: choice

  • Choices

    Choices are difficult.
    You choose life and passion –
    of course you do!
    But there,
    in the centre,
    in the shadows and folds,
    death lurks.
    Decay of complacency,
    lack of emotional investment today
    breeds the boredom of tomorrow,
    black mold overgrowing your passion,
    smothering it in a soft, furry blanket,
    killing it through comfort,
    illusion of safety,
    abdication of control…
    To keep life
    you have to keep choosing it
    every day,
    every hour,
    every minute.
    And you do –
    of course you do –
    until you tire
    and let the mold take over.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • This is what democracy looks like:

    A lot of people making the same decision they always did – or no decision at all.
    Making new decisions is difficult.
    It carries a risk of making a mistake and offers no certain reward.
    It’s fundamentally unsafe.
    Better not.

    Quite a few people working hard for no gratitude, no acclaim and not much money.
    For the sake of decency.

    A lot of people working hard for no reason – only money and thinking they are better than the rest.
    They always fail.
    There’s always someone richer.

    A few people yelling as loud as they can – their grievances, their ambitions, their theirness –
    Anything to be seen, for they only feel real when reflected in the eyes of others.
    The eyes turn away and they have to raise the volume.

    Crowds marching, covered in the mantle of righteousness, in the warmth of the herd.
    Belonging.

    Dozens of people thinking, writing, quoting.
    Trying hard for new decisions – and never mind the cost.

    A lone man standing in front of a tank in Tianamen square.
    The first person to climb over the Berlin wall.
    A woman dumping green ink into the voting box in Moscow.

    This is what democracy looks like:
    Each of us alone with his choice.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Lavender Roses

    Symbolizing enchantment and splendor, these blooms are meant for royalty. One of the rarest colors, lavender roses are often a sign of love at first sight and carry an air of regality. It’s truly the perfect rose for a budding romance. [Sarah Dimarco, Veranda – poshness-aspiring magazine – March 22, 2021]

    When I was young and trusting I was told to seek and I’ll find
    My lavender roses would wait just ’round the bend.
    Around the bend I went all out in body and mind
    But roads bent and twisted and would always end in dead-end.

    I went for unaffordable and always got it for free.
    I stood on words and principles in unsustainable poses.
    They gave me what I wanted and I screamed that I disagree.
    And all that I had left to me were pure lavender roses.

    My road to salvation went south while heading North.
    A thousand bipasses appear when the straight path closes.
    While finding my direction I only tied up in knots,
    My body cut and bleeding from the thorns on lavender roses.

    I made my own way into the middle of the deep dark wood.
    I found a crystal coffin where the perfect place of repose is.
    My peace is on my terms and I have now done what I could
    But all that I have left to give are broken lavender roses.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Spiral

    You make choices.
    Those choices make you.
    Then you makes choices.
    Always a spiral – upwards or downwards – it’s your choice.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • There is always a choice

    …and the final choice of all:
    you can always stay behind
    in the place you can control,
    in the prison of your mind…

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Archetypes

    Fireworks over the lake –
    fairytale magic at bargain prices,
    illusion underlying reality.
    They make skies darker and waters – deeper.
    They raise archetypes from the depth, to loom in the dark.
    Do they frighten or comfort?
    Or both?
    You see with your mind,
    you hear with your mind,
    you feel with your mind.
    What is more real – the ephemeral lights or the everlasting fears,
    passed from generation to generation in blood and stories?
    There is no way to tell,
    but there is a choice.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • Choices

    There is always a choice.
    Even when the only remaining choice is to ignore reality.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in

  • A turning point

    A turning point is just a point:
    you can turn and go back,
    you can confront it and stand there until you drop,
    you can go in a spiral – under or over…
    there are always choices
    and the number of them depends on your imagination
    and on how much you are willing to change…
    I prefer to lie in the grass,
    looking up at passing clouds,
    waiting for the turning point of the season to come to me…
    and it will.

    —

    by

    ashepherd
    in
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