But then we learn

Trapped in  cultivated  ways ,we may  forget

That usefulness can also be a trap.

Am I the one who never makes a bet?

Am I  the one who always has the map?

We are no automata, we are flesh.

And even older brains can be rewired

Maybe we need to clear  our  boring cache

And light  a few more glowing mental fires.

Reluctance seems  to  cage us with our fear.

Though ,despite our wishes, we all age and die.

Time goes and  the end will soon be here

But  it is never too late just  to try.

It is myself to whom I speak in sonnet form

Anxiety is  fierce  until we learn.