Sometimes making decisions
Of the highly consequential kind
Can drive a wedge of fear
Into the unwary mind.
It's the fear of consequences
That might occur should I be wrong.
But, fear can often bind us
From reaching for the stars.
It binds us to forever stand
Within these earthly bars.
Instead we wring our hands and cry,
"Oh, what if I am wrong?!"
While swirling 'bout our throbbing head
Opportunities pass us by
That would exceed our expectations
If only we would try.
So, blind from indecision
For fear of being wrong
We fret and worry over things
That never will come true
If we'll just shoulder to the plow
And join the mighty few
Who soar above the moaning crowd
That fear they might be wrong.
