As prolific as I can be I straggle along when decisions are anything more than theoretical
As in touch, as I feel to be, with the muses that persistently confront me, knowing just what to say here or there, when I reach a point where so much must be said, this becomes the most daunting task of darkened dread
And I ask myself…WHY?
Am I tongue-tied and stifled
Lost amidst a sea of words
Perspiring for no reason
I could write a biography, chapter upon chapter, of what there is to tell, what there is to know, and yet, within those populous of words, none work as well, as hello.
Then what comes next…how does one matriculate from salutation to unearthing life’s mysteries. Well, perhaps someplace in-between.
And as I hem and as I haw, doubt creeps in and intensifies it all.
What is there to fear?
What’s the worst that can happen?