It is

12:13 pm

Floating with the stream.

What if I fail, a voice asked?  What if I sit here and I do nothing, will anything change.

Try it, another voice answered.  You do not have to do anything.  Have you ever failed at anything?

Yes, I’ve failed at everything.  I can’t do it.  I can’t risk it all.

Risk what? The calm voice answered.

Risk my life.

The calm voice smiled.

But the nervous voice continued, I do not want to be here.

Where?

Here, there, anywhere.  I do not want to hear it.  If there is truth, why do I see lies.  I want truth, why do I lie all day.

The calm voice smiled again.

There is war and politics and pain everywhere I look inside.  I do not want to look anymore, I do not want to see it.  I want it ideal.

It is.

 

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One response to “It is

  1. This reminds of:

    O Where Are You Going?
    “O where are you going?” said reader to rider,
    “That valley is fatal when furnaces burn,
    Yonder’s the midden whose odours will madden,
    That gap is the grave where the tall return.”

    “O do you imagine,” said fearer to farer,
    “That dusk will delay on your path to the pass,
    Your diligent looking discover the lacking
    Your footsteps feel from granite to grass?”

    “O what was that bird,” said horror to hearer,
    “Did you see that shape in the twisted trees?
    Behind you swiftly the figure comes softly,
    The spot on your skin is a shocking disease.”

    “Out of this house,” said rider to reader,
    “Yours never will,” said farer to fearer,
    “They’re looking for you,” said hearer to horror,
    As he left them there, as he left them there.
    — W H Auden

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