I keep finding myself at the threshold
where the mind draws maps
and the heart wipes them clean.

Every choice feels like a tidal chart
predictable on paper,
feral in motion.

I stand there, static,
reeling to name the weather inside me.

Tell me,
is courage the art of holding the line,
or the miracle of letting it break?

At every crossroads I hear the same whisper:
Will it be strategy or surrender?

And some days,
I don’t know which one 

would save me more.