Dots upon dots upon dots of patient fretwork.
A persistent fight in the hope that all the d**
that you are not taking
are not limiting
your potential.
Your potential,
as you contemplate
the balance you have set
between the moral high-ground
that you occupy
and the depths of
creativity into which you
have not plunged.
But, of course
you can think too much,
I've always told myself.
And, of course,
I worry myself
over some imagined lack of freedom,
I have imposed upon myself,
fully aware that it is
ridiculous in this context.