What is Goodness?

I wrote a novel last year

As I write this it remains unpublished

But I think about one concept in it

Fairly regularly 

The opening scene

On a dusty road

Our protagonist of sorts

Swerves his SUV to avoid a man on a bicycle

He doesn’t avoid him

He hits him

The man dies

Yea, I should have played this up more in the book

That instant

When he suddenly realises he may hit him

What force moves his body into action first?

Genuine goodness not wanting to harm

Or fear of the law?

I’ve thought about this somewhat

In the year that’s passed

Who are we really?

Do we even know 

Will we ever

Is goodness real

Or is it coerced 

Is our virtue merely an act

To attain an outcome

Driven by selfishness

Who knows

What is goodness anyway?

I think of this when I fill the birdfeeder sometimes

Do I do it for the birds

Or because I enjoy watching them come feed?

In a world that has all the answers

Sometimes it’s good not to know

I’m tired and a little cynical

Maybe all this will seem like a dumb question

In the morning

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