Bias

Is this freedom of the will?
Guiding by some wants until. . .

A creator, a design?
Shadows of a gathered mind?

There is law, but that’s not real.
In those laws it’s soon revealed.

Ways to follow, ways to void,
Truths are born and then destroyed.

Beasts of interpretation.
Raised in skewed contemplations.

Contemplations froth within.
Affirmations of a kin.

Kin to what? Objective thought?
As if such things could be wrought,

From a creature such as mine.
From a mind not quite divine.

Perspectives, are a pri-ore.
Prejudiced, and then some more.

In the open, stashed beneath,
Only biased if you breathe.

Reproach, condemn and refuse?
Or accept these crooked views.

And what of objective measures?
Simple marks and truthful treasures.

Has this thinking been mistaken?
What objects have been forsaken?

All of them, each and every one.
Objective’s over, finished, done!

Objects are not what they seem.
All depend on what they mean.

Meaning drawn by each unto.
Same of each there aren’t two.

Some are for and some against.
Which are weak and who has strength.

Wants, needs of all and many.
Who prevails? Some or any?

Crash and floods yet again.
Delivery from where we’ve been.

Water shapes to its container.
Our leanings’ role as explainer.

Will of one and all to blame.
What if they’re one and the same?

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