Am I more afraid
Of taking a chance and
learning I'm somebody
I don't know, or of risking
new territory,
only to find I'm the same
old me? There is comfort
in the tried and true.
Breaking ground
might uncover a sinkhole,
one impossible to climb out
of. And setting sail in
uncharted waters
might mean capsizing into
a sea monster's jaws.
Easier to turn my back on
these things
than to try tjem and fail.
And yet, a whisper insists
I need to know if they are or
aren't integral to me.
Status quo is a swamp.
And stagnation is slow death.
