I don’t really know what to write
and that, itself, is not so much a problem
only the shade of a problem.
The problem is thinking “I don’t know what to write”
and then not writing –
only thinking about not writing
and not, actually, writing.
Oh dear –
what a muddle of thoughts
a tangle, a jumble
sluggishly lumbering, encumbering thoughts
echoing ’round and ’round
till there is no way out –
and each points the way back,
a signpost in the dark,
to this one thought, the original thought:
“I don’t know –”
and here is the problem,
which is actually only the shade of a problem,
because the problem lies not in knowing
but in doing.