Indecision

It's shiny and made of brass,
It has a cover made of glass.
Within a needle always true,
points the way to heaven's view.

I watch it spin and wonder
What awaits me up a yonder.
You ask why I'm not yet gone?
Why the feat is not yet done?

I think the compass is at fault,
I'd wish the needle would just halt.
Instead it spins and spins,
And no single corner wins.

One day it will stop and only shake,
It's the signal for my misery to break.
I will be free to pursue my fate,
But what if I'm too late?

Alas! The needle is still moving!
And the pain in my legs' just proving,
That I stood here far too long,
Worrying that my direction could be wrong.

Fact is, it's quite clear,
Indecision is the fear
Of getting nowhere near
Of heaven's view, I hold so dear.