My Xmas gift (new computer) has arrived and it's going to take some time to set up. So the time in my morning when I create new has vanished today. I instead share the following first published yesterday.
To be who you are inside your own head, or not to be so That is an intriguing question
Whether it is better to be silently the target of the slings and arrows of so-called normal people
Or to speak our everlasting truths against the sea of troubles directed our way
And by raising our voices to end those troubles.
To die, to end the heartache and the pain of living among those who want to drive us away
The end of that heartache and pain is devoutly to be wished
To sleep, perchance to dream, of a better life,
Perhaps a chance, in those dreams, to be who we know ourselves to be.
Ay, there's the rub,
For in the sleep of death, there are no dreams,
No better day, when we have shed this mortal coil
To respect life, when it brings so much pain?
Who would bear the whips and scorns of a society
Bent on oppression, obsessed with denying us love
Or equal treatment before the law, or a voice in human affairs
That deems us to be unworthy of the class human
Unfit to work, to sweat in our labor to provide for ourselves,
Condemned to dread the end of our lives,
Of coming to that undiscovered country, from which nobody who visits can return
Only to find that we are never to be allowed to enter even there
No matter how many good deeds we have performed during our years
Or how sound our good will or how placid our hearts
Conscience does make cowards of us all
Until and unless we discover who we truly are
We are condemned to travel the current of lives not our own
And perform meaningless actions, never for the benefit of ourselves or our kind
But only for the benefit of those who would hate us for whom we may become
Still it is our obligation to push forward, beat a pathway into the future that may be followed
For the youth who shall come after us
Erecting for them the chance at a future we can only dream of, Full of aspirations achieved and inspirations still to be conceived.