Which Way?

I find that my purpose and worth seem to be so very intertwined with what I am allowed to contribute to. Rarely does it occur to me that perhaps giving is not the only equalizer in my life. Could it be that the practice of my art is simply an escape from that which otherwise consumes my fears? Will there ever again be a balance of the two- freedom and duty? For one will destroy me from within, the decay of doubt dissolving me slowly. Yet the other will strip me of moments and life, igniting a desire to be and do and always reminding me that there will always be more than I can accomplish.

So which will it be, or will it be neither? How fickle is the heart when it has the luxury of options from which to choose. Will I be still and face the darkness, hoping to come out a refined version of myself on the other end? Or will I flee, chasing the whimsy of the wind that blows free and unrooted?

I must choose one, I fear. For the circle of life has followed me thrice and here still I stand, planted firmly in uncertainty. In the morn I will face my conundrum anew, seeing with eyes what beauty is held here. What a glorious problem to hold one in each hand, and while my eyes behold them, my heart will pray.