It’s so tempting
To stay sleeping,
Dreaming, only breathing,
Barely guilty of living, succumbing
To the apathy and fear of failing.
Stretched out at the foot of the mountain hesitating,
Hard work and potential success paling,
In contrast to the instantly fast
Pleasures of slumber.
Why wonder or wander
Into the future with no map,
When all you wish for
Is in your grasp with a nap?
Sit at the beginning of the cliff,
Slave to your subconscious,
Unwilling to risk movement,
Wasting all your talent and wit,
Believing there’s only benefit
In what’s playing out in your head.
It’s so much easier when it’s all pretend.
When nothing difficult needs to be said,
And you’re content under your bedspread.
It’s safer at the bottom –
With nowhere to fall.
Than reaching toward the precipice,
Turning your back on the easy bliss,
And climbing, painfully, upward to the uncertain.