“What does it take to speak?
To say the things that need to be said?
With a voice that betrays no fear,
And an urgency that reveals no . . . uh . . .”

Indecision

“Indecision!”

Damn! I’ve ruined the script again.
One forged after hours of careful deliberation.
One I’ve rehearsed countless times.
It’s truly a remarkable work,
Worthy of history’s greatest orators.
Yet as I stand on the stage,
And put performance to practice,
My mouth turns dry,
My mind numbs,
And my jaw hangs open dumbly.

Unacceptable.

So I return to my script,
This must be the cause,
Hidden imperfections I couldn’t see.
The cues were never there,
The stage directions were all wrong,
Nothing fit into the framework I created.
So maddened I scribble my edits,
Making more allowances,
Creating more divergences,
Weaving a tapestry of words,
That spans every possible dimension and timeline.

But the performance is already over.
I wrote a script for the moment,
But it will never run again.