Decisions, decisions.
Our lives function alongside decisions,
both conscious and automatic.
Now one option is chosen over another
depending on the moral stance we take.
The essence of truth decides what is wrong and what is right.
Truth flows from no heart.
Truth is given.
Decisions are made sporadically, without truth, but upon feelings.
Rash, illogical, swaying emotions are not reliable,
yet the source of truth stands.
If only a mental process began when we need it the most.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem