Notebook

   To love and the lying misery underneath, To fallen poets and their poems alike To pain and perpetual persistence that pertains, The revelling revered pays a goodbye 

                                                                                                         Facing the treacherous, doubting the first step, I take a pause. A pause long enough to derail me from expected, diverge me from the longed. Standing on the hourglass I question my existence.  Is the first step that difficult? What if? Why not? What then? and the time goes on. Stacking excuses acting as a cushion to lay the guilty self,  and the long and winding road declared an untraversable path without taking the first step.