Everything's To Your Choosing Poem by Johnathan Stokes

Love is wise
old and eternal.
It does not flinch
or consider a disappearance
at its faltering within
an adolescent misunderstanding.
Though two may break
they can search elsewhere -
love is still there.
Love is always around to be shown
it's merely a matter
of being felt or known,
it's merely a matter
of your choosing.

Curiosity remains
in different quantities
that delve to different depths
like a wave - on the surface
rising high and crumbling into the essence of itself -
the higher it rises the deeper it crashes
searching within for answers
or without when it's at its peak.
The ocean of curiosity
is always there,
with answers all beneath it,
you are like the surface air
creating curious waves to retrieve it,
the strength of those winds
are merely a matter
of your choosing.

Happiness flows freely
it is not confined
to those in homes high
possessing more stories than an anthology
and rooms wasted away
with unused chandeliers in places rarely seen
and furniture that would collect dust
if it were not for those who were paid to clean -
happiness is not confined
to excess -
happiness shows itself
in the mud-clad man
with no place to eat
but who has just received a small payment
for his convincing beggary.
Happiness is a synthesis
from self,
it is always ready to be composed
it's merely a matter
of your choosing.

Intelligence ponders
as usual, as always,
it too remains.
'Think of nothing' it says,
'do without me,
think of nothing',
but alas:
one cannot think
of nothing -
nothing
is still being thought of.
Intelligence too remains
always there, more obviously,
or less obviously,
it's merely a matter
of your choosing.

Everything's to your choosing
And everything is eternal
In reference to humanity…
In reference to your humanity,
Everything's to your choosing.