Questions

Right in the middle of the crossroads of life,
I was supposed to come up with a plan, but alas,
Pitfalls and refusals draw me back to these limbos made of ice.

Here is the time when ideas would flow like unstoppable tides,
But whenever the writing decision pop out,
Ideas crossed each other in an unintelligible jigsaw of thoughts.

Where is this confident Other whose I was supposed to reach out ?
Why the reflection in the cheval mirror looked at me so quizzically ?
Should I light up my soul with all these gentle thoughts
Or should I let myself go to this shadowy embrace of self-pity?