The game

I’m hanging from a thin rope with a dense fog around me
The fog’s going to clear but I don’t know when
I could close my eyes, count to ten,
take a leap of faith, and jump in one direction
I might land on a cliff, or fall into a valley
I could swim to the shore, if I fall into the sea
I might end up in the woods, dark and scary
But maybe I’ll find a way, even if all I see is blurry
With a little charm of luck, it’s just a matter of time
But if I at least jumped, the decision would be mine

What if I held onto the rope, waiting for the fog to fade
And just when it’s about to get clear, I realize the game wasn’t well played
Because there’s no time to jump, the rope’s going to break
I’d be going down straight, ­­with my fear, my fate
I might still land on a cliff, or fall into a valley
Or end up in the woods, or in the middle of a sea
But what if I lose my way, and my feet are sore
Or I swim for days and cannot find the shore
Who do I blame? For I haven’t played the game
It’s still a charm of luck, and still a matter of time
But this time destiny took the leap, the decision wouldn’t be mine.

Landed in a pickle, these are my thoughts right now.