The aberration of comfort is such
that pain becomes a remedy for angst,
irrational counters irrational
and I can see all my flaws with disdain.
It's as though observing an avalanche
with fond memories stored at the apex
and though safe in the knowledge that I'm safe
I get the stuttering sense to absond.
But do I flee from the danger I fear
or fly towards that which I'm set to lose;
how will I know that which I already know
if I'm concerned with how instead of why?
In indecision, I'm buried by snow
but I feel no fear with my skin aglow.