Unsolved Resolves

A Droplet of Feelings

What am I waiting for?

The scene for the perfect battleground is awaiting my allowance.

My thoughts,

 in the form of shells that are ready to be fired.

My vicinity,

is the mourning of the dead, only mere silence is who's voice.

Why am I letting it go to waste?

When I straddle the edges of my pencil pouch,

I see my weapons piled up, ready to charge at any target I aim for.

Still, why am I waiting?

I see loads of books and their colorful brackets,

watering my mouth with their embracing odor and sweet taste.

The sound of their changing pages, race my heart, and thirst for wisdom.

They are in the form of food, instruction, motivation, and strategy, have come to war; I get it.

No matter how critical the enemy questions,

their defeat lies between the margins they (my books) behold; between the thin spaces of their pages, the secret stacks.

How fascinating can they be?

So, what is still holding me?

I see my fingers, my pen, ready to dominate the blank, innocent page beneath them.

Like, a knight's horse who's in the heat, ready to fight with his rider on his back.

When I look at my table, all my utensils, my books, notebooks, unfinished chess-puzzles,

pencils, erasers, pens, sharpeners, geometry boxes, calculators stare with hope into my eyes,

waiting eagerly for my thoughts,

to shake their existence up

alongside the reader, 

and the examiner.

And yet I'm standing still?

They know that with them I can; even I, a lousy loser can bring back victory.

I know that with them, I will no longer be an empty coward.

Yet, do I still fall back?

I know, if I want, I can crank atop the rankings.

With their (my weapons) legacy,

I can pass the day melting into my flow of studying.

Yes, studying will no longer be a reason for headaches or fear.

It will be a journey of rhythm,

and,

therefore,

pleasure.

Yet, I stray from their pure prayer to stir only the enjoyment?

Yet, I hesitate?

Where are all my motivations and inspirations?

Where?

And why?