How relaxed can you be with such an undertaking,
so despotic of my time, and sorely attempting?
When the time to heal will stretch on for months and months?
Can it be surprising that my tries feel in the hundredths?
Excitement flares so briefly in my head
that my trudging hardly falters. Instead
I keep starting. Worrying about quality
and freshness fuel procrastination ability.
So why try?
Because it’s worth it. That’s why.