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                                                          December 2014

A journey to stare down the dragon,

or is it, actually, to tilt at windmills,

a step by step guide.

Taking stock of my backpack,

weighed down by fear and unwanted baggage.

Gathering my meager resources,

Waiting for the call to take the road.  

 

First step, reconnaissance the terrain,

unattainable peaks of lofty ideals,

pockmarked by deep gullies of despair,

reeking marshes of self-hatred,

impenetrable forests thick with rigid obsessions,

stagnant pools of choking fear,

a surreal landscape filled with danger.

 

Second step, mapping the pitfalls,

or is it delaying the inevitable?

Hanging on the narrow ledge of self-imposed exile,

its dizzying height reducing me into paralytic apathy.

Heeding Goethe’s dictum, “Whatever you can do,

or dream you can, begin it.  

Boldness has power, dream and magic in it.”

 

Third step, risk assessment,  

or have faith, whatever the outcome.

Forcing myself into action,

gripping the trusty outcrop of Hope,

Pulling onto the point of no return,

keeping my sights on the goal,

getting my perspective.

 

The fierce gale, icy rainstorms do

foretell the calm after the deluge.

The tortuous paths, strewn with rocks are

but contortions, manufactured  

by the impasse of my mind.

I see a distant star, a beacon,

beckoning me to stay on course,  guiding me home.