373. No Time For Doubt

When his eyes open, the wall opposite is lit with an intricate pattern of lines in bright yellows and oranges. He’s certain it hadn’t been like this a moment ago. He stares at the pattern for a time before he finally realizes that the sun must be setting for its light to be at such an angle. Which means it must be early evening. He only meant to rest his eyes for a few minutes, but he must have slept for hours!

Astonished at himself, he considers getting up, but the pattern of light holds his attention and inhibits any decision. The light is moving now, almost dancing as though the sunlight were alive. Suddenly he has an idea for a poem. He sits up and looks for his notebook.

He’s about to jot something down when questions start to form in his mind. Is this idea a good one? Does it make any sense? Is it even worth writing down? The doubts pile up, one on top of the other. But in this confused state of semi-wakefulness he has no tolerance for such thoughts. They seem to belong to another world and not this one.

His attention returns to the pattern of light and his idea is reborn with resplendent force. He sets down the first words, only to discover with great excitement that he has a few more, so he puts those down too. Words flow effortlessly from his hand until he notices that he has an entire stanza.

He reads over his work and detects some power in the lines. But there’s one word that sticks out. It doesn’t feel quite right — can it really be used to mean that? He thinks about this for a moment before realizing that this question is just doubt back again in another form. He shakes his head and smiles.

He goes back to the light that is fading from the wall as the sun begins to disappear. With almost no delay, words begin to flow out of him again. The whole poem is coming right now, whether he’s ready for it or not. He doesn’t know how, but it’s coming.