Sitting

As I sit on the great, big porch,

My fingers wrap around a bright red torch.

Its flames give way to a demonic light.

I must put it away and keep it out of sight.

How brilliant a thing, fire can be.

It knows how to destroy you and me.

Yet sitting here has made me consider,

If I made a different choice, would I see you clearer?

I put the torch down and let it drown.

Now is the time to create a new crown.

If I sit and keep on wishing for new things to appear,

My dreams and their lives will all disappear.

I sit and ponder my existence away,

Keep holding on to the hope for a brighter day.

But it is I who truly hold all the keys,

To all the doors containing the could be's.

Has sitting and waiting been alright?

My breath feels heavy, my heart closed tight.

I have loosened my grip on what I loved most.

I have seen the great shores, I have been on the coast.

I have swallowed seas of sorrow and still

I cannot find goodness; I dare not find will.

For if I do, what will become of me then?

Will I count on my fingers, making sure I reach ten?

I don't want to sit and wait for the answers to knock,

But I always tend to fear the greatest shock.