Stuck

Stuck in that place between deliberation and action,

Keenly aware of a mild flavor of dissatisfaction.

No clear path ahead, no clear view of behind,

Perpetual transition and no rest for the mind.

One the one hand what feels good, what seems to be right,

The other holds duty unfulfilled, try as I might.

And in this place of unending indecision,

I find I that I’m not so adept at precision.

There is no black and there is no white,

Can’t tell between ignorant darkness and illuminating light.

Though others may love, and may hope, and may care,

At the end of the day, I am all alone there.

In the stillness of paralyzed intellect, I can see –

That the thing I am truly afraid of – is me.