I am the master of no-follow-through.
I challenge myself to improve:
To run and swim and crunch,
to read literature,
to learn about the cosmos and the mind,
to write poetry,
to finish my novel,
to publish short stories,
to bake bread,
to make pastries,
to minimize and declutter,
to do so many little things.
I stack them so high and so deep
(there are so many)
that I find myself staring at a mountain range
constructed of tiny goals
and I sit and do nothing,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of my own dreams.
But I can hike a 14-er in a day,
one dedicated day of devotion
to a task worth striving for.
So I'll pick one peak to climb to,
make a dedicated hike,
knowing there's no stopping.
I must hike to the top or turn back,
wasting so much of my spirit
on yet another failure.
So I'll make a dedicated hike,
trudging onward until
I can sit at the top,
exhausted, but in triumph,
(exhale deeply),
and then choose another peak.
It might take a lifetime,
but I'll cross this mountain range of mine,
conquer every peak,
exhausted, but in triumph,
(exhale deeply),
let my wearied body sleep.
But for now I'm just still planning,
thinking, dreaming, scheming.
I challenge myself to improve,
to do so many little things,
but I sit and do nothing,
overwhelmed by the magnitude of my own dreams.
I am the master of no-follow-through.
