---
id: "codex://object/till-we-can-t-choose"
archive_id: "till-we-can-t-choose"
slug: "till-we-can-t-choose"
url: "https://ndcodex.com/objects/till-we-can-t-choose/"
type: "scroll"
title: "Till We Can’t Choose"
summary: "another day. old dog tucked,. wrapped like a burrito. the other AWOL,. soliciting someone else’s compassion. Cinder Well praying from the glass. A Scorched Lament. coffee from Grandma Betty’s mug. God rest her soul. the"
date_published: "2026-08-20T14:03:59.116Z"
date_modified: "2026-08-20T14:03:59.116Z"
status: "published"
visibility: "public"
language: "en-US"
axes:
  scale: "micro"
  depth: "recursive"
  focus: "moment"
  function: "revelatory"
themes: []
constellations: []
tags: []
keywords:
  - "Scroll"
author:
  id: "nathan-davis"
  name: "Nathan Davis"
  designation: "Archive Operator"
  role: "Archive Operator"
  handle: "@nathandavis"
  avatar: "/media/people/nathan-davis.jpg"
  bio: "Designer, builder, and curator of the Codex Archive."
contributors:
  - id: "nathan-davis"
    name: "Nathan Davis"
    designation: "Archive Operator"
    role: "Archive Operator"
    handle: "@nathandavis"
    avatar: "/media/people/nathan-davis.jpg"
    bio: "Designer, builder, and curator of the Codex Archive."
relations: []
media: []
---
TILL WE CAN’T CHOOSE

another day.

old dog tucked,
wrapped like a burrito.

the other AWOL,
soliciting someone else’s compassion.

Cinder Well praying from the glass.

A Scorched Lament.

coffee from Grandma Betty’s mug.

God rest her soul.

the dead remain
in the handles of things.

and here I am,

ancient armor,
hardened resistance,
worn thin.

so I bite softly.

still teeth.

fear is unacceptable.

not because it won’t come.

it knows the address.

but it does not
get command authority.

I’ll be damned
if I’m gonna use
the last bits of life

bemoaning the package.

this is the package.

the failing parts.
the ridiculous beauty.
the dogs.
the dead.
the living.
the music passing through glass.
the hand still lifting the cup.

may your threads
be filled with beauty

till the thumbs
stop twiddling.

change the purview.

not:

what is being taken?

but:

what is still here?

not the failing instrument,

the music
still passing through it.

not duration.

participation.

pull up.

give it a little thrust.

just enough
to alter the vector.

salute the sun.

look to strongholds.

and three thousand miles away,

my dear,

good morning.

same sun.
different window.

the world hasn’t changed.

the aperture has.

move it

toward beauty.
toward tenderness.
toward the living.

it’s not over
till we can choose.

nose up.

till we can’t choose.