An Odd Ode to Indecision

'Indecision'  by Carol Schiff

I feel like I'm a motionless spectator.. a somber witness to my life crawling forward one inch at a time.

Yep. That's the best way to describe it, I suppose. And when I say I'm standing still, I'm not characterizing that stillness with the profound bliss of being an impartial observer or with an unflinching, unwavering sense of knowing the obvious answers out there. No.

This stillness, I suspect is more akin to a restless shuffle confined to a small poignant space cradled in the comfort of familiarity. It is only my comparison to the constant, unbroken flow of the rivers of occurrences, small and large, around me that aids this reprehensible state of mine to disguise itself as something more virtuous.. something more in control of itself.

I am but a prisoner of indecisiveness. Raging against the walls of bastard queries and misshapen musings that strive to snuff out that last flickering flame of hope in me, I scream at my inhuman jailers. These long, distorted shadows of by gone creations that my hand birthed in youthful pride.

There are those outside.. far outside the tall outer constructs that house my little cell, who hear my howling pleas but it lands upon their tired ears as the opaque and muted snarls of an ill tempered beast.

"Good thing it's caged..", they must say, whilst glancing at the odd palacial construction.. one with each brick laid in wanton vanity, each sculptural embellishment reaching out from its rustic, bare surface carved from pristine intellectual merit and painted over with the solemn hue of  unspoken promise.

"Such animals deserve to be caged."