Dilemma

Everything needs to be ended
Or revived at some point..
And it happens after constant interrogation
Of the need and the arrogance
Within..

I am on my own, I can start over..
Chop off these magnificent wings
And wait until I grow them again..
Who knows, they might turn out
Stronger, softer.. bursting with color

What if they never grow back?
What if they shrivel up and die?
What if this is the only pair I ever get?
No..I think I better stay with what I have..

I am scared to use them, lest I exhaust
My supply of healthy feathers..
But what is it good for if I can't fly?
I wish I could get a ready, unambiguous answer..

Maybe I should just keep flying
With what I have until I fall down
Unconscious, by a wise, peaceful lake..
Whether it is time for death or revival..
Is what the lake decides.