Pointed Canon
There it was
So pointed
Their canon
At me
They took
Their best shot
Over and over
I was
Soar too fine
Out
De-spite
There best efforts
Holy as could be
Came from ails wear
That greatest alloy
Of mine
Touched
And untouched
This poem is a bout the inescapable realty of each of us having an ideology, a set of assumptions that are chosen, cannot be decisively resolved, and that guide one’s basic decision-making and way of life. Importantly, at least some of our ultimate commitments in life lie in this debatable domain.
This poem juxtaposes this with the recognition that such basic assumptions are open questions and can even be legitimately viewed as arbitrary.
