I heard a lot of things about doubt.
How it's good, how's it bad,
how it's a sign that you long
for something you never had
but want to find,
that it's how you find what is lost,
how it can cost you lots of time
and sometimes a wasted life,
but can save you in the end.
And I've heard contradictions and predictions that a life spent in doubt is not wasted
if one seeks the answers,
and I'm just like,
I can't.
I can't do this anymore,
this doubt is like a dancer that
has never felt the ground beneath her feet,
always flitting to one cloud only to retreat,
never knowing when she'll meet something solid, tired but unable to cease.
I dance to death's heartbeat until it becomes my own, I am terrified that one day I will not be able to tell the difference.
The doubt is hurtling these tired feet
toward a crossroads,
precipice of a surging river of change,
a plunge that I alone must choose to take,
or refuse to make.
SK
