glass wall.

So near yet so far.
Just when the gap seems breached, just when the distance seems covered, the last few inches of separation looms up like a chasm. Near, yet not there yet, neither here nor there. A cold icy wall that surrounds and cages victory. The icy claws of uncertainty that prevents the completion.
Like a glass gaol, the feeling of the trapped persists.
Where there seemed obstacles no more, I find myself against an icy wall.
When will the ice melt and the soul freed?
When would the goal be within reach?
The target is certain, yet it constantly moves, constantly unexpectedly.
Hesitate to make my shot, lest my lone arrow misses forever. Wretched, tortured, speared by criss crossing blades of self doubt, watching hapless as lifeblood flows. Perhaps the warmth of the blood will melt the ice. But will it melt in time, before I am bled dry?