The Choice

Why do I vacillate
Between two things?
Why do I try?
Why does this hurried, anxious
Mad desire toward 
The empty, frightful void
Propel me to act
Impulsively?
Why?
When the promise of Spring
Is even now
Wafting across the plain
And showering its pleasures
Down upon the world
In the ever sure return
Of April's rain.
Ungrateful fool!
Did you think
To beat the Master
At His game?
Did you hope
By your vain ambition
To propel yourself ahead of others 
And thus claim the lion's share 
Of His abundance?
If so,
You are sorely mistaken.
It is the devil's time you keep
When you trust 
In the thing that thinks
That it can know
What's best for itself.
And it's the wind you sow
When you blow and blow
And the whirlwind 
That you'll reap
In the end.
Better to trust 
The winds that blow
From that unknown place
In the heart of Spring.
And to slow down
Enough to hear
The beat, beat, beat
Of that distant heart 
That pulses for us all.
After all, 
You are blessed today
With sunshine
And rain
And they will come again.
For they are true
To the maker of such things
And true to you
If you will choose them.
But that you must do,
Choose that is,
For you cannot have both.