I reached for the screw driver, but it turned into an ax. I put the transformed tool back on the shelf, to pick up another tool, but in each place, there was the same ax. I dare not pick it up, lest I use it. The ax is a delicate tool with shattering results. I must not wield it lightly. The blow is not one that can be recovered from. Severed. Divisive. End. of. the. line.
In the back of my mind, the mantras of compassion, mercy, we are all one, undivided, working for the best possible world, in the direction of highest enlightenment, for the good of all. Kohlberg's levels - and the axes vibrate in their tool nooks. I visit the faces of the past. Each experience educates. I ask my future self for advice - the person who already lived though this and more. I do not want to follow-past blueprints. Relive past mistakes. Free-will is about jumping the groove. I'm ready to jump. I'm ready to do something different.
I don't know what to do and then the answer appears. The ax flies to my hand and the deed is done. The present severed into the past.
It could have been the screwdriver. And somewhere, it is.
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