Riddled With Doubt

I doubt
If tonight will come —
Let alone tomorrow

If any word written or read
Has any worth
If these thoughts are truly mine
Or echoes of words read or heard

If the earth will hold me
When I step
If any deed —
These perceptions and sensations —
If my very being
My living
Is not but a shadow
Chasing its own substance

And even if such substance exists —
In all I’ve known
Felt
Or seen

Riddled with doubt
About everything —

How can I write a single word
Ever speak a word
Or even take a step
Would I not be paralysed —
Forever trapped
In a frozen state
Of being

Unable to move, speak
Or open my eyes

And if that’s my predicament —
If that’s how my life must be —

Riddled, each moment of each day
With a paralysing doubt
Whether to speak or stay silent
Whether to write a single word
Or not —

Then what’s the way out
What can be — must be — the only way

Not a temporary relief
Not a quick fix I must apply
Or remember each day —

For if I use it today
Tomorrow I may doubt the method itself
And discard it

So, what must be
The only way —
The one escape
From this paralysis
This indecision
This all-consuming doubt

Must not this doubt
Turn upon itself
Must it not become so encompassing —
So absolute —
That it even doubts itself
Its own existence

Like a poison
Used to treat poisoning
Must the doubt not be used
To treat its own effect

Must I not doubt
So thoroughly
So ceaselessly
That I and doubt
Become one and the same —

And with no distinction between me
And doubt —

What would there be left
To doubt

Who would there be
To know or feel doubt

Who would there be
To suffer the paralysis of doubt —

If doubt is all that survives
And I, still living
Become but doubt itself