During a recent fever my brain

fragmented itself

and wandered though the scenery

of my remembrances

for some reason

it collected itself again

not quite the same

and hardly different

imbalanced in all directions

I attained proper stature

a body without courage

vision clasped in fear

doubts reigning leadership

the swamp of mire

holds these boot of progress

the fog of reality 

clouds the clear vision of belief

I recall the search

I feel the pain, the despair

the knife of wisdom

removed me from the womb of death

doubt overtakes

the simplicity of the answer

fear compresses actions

into a solid

I am a weak, battered child

weeping in the corner

hiding under my blanket

hoping, pray to make it

through the night

I have grown

but still remain within my blanket

I have peeked at the noise outside

yet return to my sheltered world

this is not my destiny

but this path continues in a circle

I accept to little and demand too much of myself and others

I am fair but wicked

I am not so bad but not so good either

clearly obscured from the vision of most

in the blanket on inaction

I know what I should do but ...

the end goal is beyond my grasp

do I clutch the torch and run 

or do I pass it as fast as I can to another?

As I wait I ask

Is there a torch?

Oh, God just don't let me drop it!