She was wild with indecision,
like the smoke from a camper's fire,
weaving to and fro,
yet going no where.
Now and then, without warning,
sparks fanned the flame.
More rapid circles.
What to do? Where to go?
Life is cyclical,
the sparks eventually ebb,
the smoke, like an illusionist's lady,
disappear from view.
She is left cold and alone,
no warmth from the flame.
No decision reached.
Maybe she should have joined the flames,
at least she'd have them
for a traveling companion,
on her sojourn to an abyss of indecision.
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