Okham's Scissors (an original poem)

There is a place between blades

Where there are two simple ways;
Where there is freedom to trim
And the foolish heart stays.
On the one side of the cut
There is the fabric we use
On the other side the throw away.
But damaged the threads that do not choose,
They hang in the tailor’s air -
Motes of regret  and the snip is their song
Of sorrow for not being part of the suit.
No choice is choosing to do wrong.
Before the cut and before I die,
Lord, on your side of the cloth am I.

 A poem against prevarication and agnosticism