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Blocked

My momentum is blocked by too much opportunity;
By my love of distractions
And willingness to lounge about on a pretty detour.
There are so many lines on my map
That I cannot clearly see the way to our destination.
When I share the vision people briefly glimpse the peak:
It is majestic, snowy-capped and tall.
Come climb with me, I ask,
And they come trusting me.
We enjoy the foothills
And the sense of closing the big target.
But at other times we are less certain:
It is night and we have no torch to see the page.
Are we really going? Yes, I say. Yes.
In part because in thinking of the prize
I have already spent it:
And that’s OK.

Dubrovnik, September 2014

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