Yet we are all alone.
We are born without choosing to whom,
We live, mostly by our own choices, but
Mainly influenced by first our parents, our friends,
Our cultures, our friends – and then our own
Choices: good, bad or indifferent, shape what
We become.
But within whom we become, we can change,
We can become more educated – it won’t change
Whatever intrinsic intelligence we are allotted at birth.
We can become kinder; we can become the listener,
The family member or friend with whom one can
Simply be oneself.
We have the potential for great evil, but also the
Same potential for tremendous good.
Our choices are our own.
John Donne’s poem came to mind this morning, for
Some unknown reason, but then in my life, there is seldom
Something so random so there is a meaning: up to me
To find it.
For those who need it today:
“No man is an island,
Entire of itself.
Each is a piece of the continent,
A part of the main.
If a clod be washed away by the sea,
Europe is the less.
As well as if a promontory were.
As well as if a manor of thine
own
Or of thine friend's were.
Each man's death diminishes me,
For I am involved in mankind.
Therefore, send not to know
For whom the bell tolls,
It tolls for thee.”
John Donne, 1624
The poem was published in 1624 as part of Donne's collection of essays and meditations, "Devotions upon Emergent Occasions".
