fearless and fearful the day’s work lies before
unsullied, shapeless, a void of possibilities.
what will come of the brow’s sweat,
what will the earth produce?
and will it be today?
some plunge ahead unafraid–or is it unawake–
automatons unfeeling, cold as stone.
is it for self-deception or for confidence’s sake
can a heart be steeled and not made of steel?
or have they overcome?
think not though, of the calm execution of other men
when the work lies at hand.
whether or not all alike pass through doubt,
what good would come by comparison?
and who else is fit for your work today?