Choice

[PrttyBrd]

Steam rises from the tar on a cool night, like restless spirits trying to escape. The air is thick and barely breathable. The shadows sway in a breeze that does not blow. The night can play tricks, but no more than the mind. Trust what is seen, or trust what is felt? Trust nothing. There is no sound. There is no light other than the moon. Yet, even that likes to hide behind the thick clouds. The question is, to proceed blind or to remain stagnant? Too long a wait will result in its own decision. Everything has consequences, especially fear.