the golden archipelago

Sometimes I believe I can do anything
More often than not, nothing
My trouble is  falling in-between places,
but not in love

Is it fear making me careful?
Or some need for veils, for 
always another layer, for there 
not to be truth; I dispute everything
without stopping to wonder what side I am on
Some strange mercy; I feel them all.

Still, sometimes, I think it is love
not for you, not for me, just something spread over 
everything
A little thinly perhaps. 

But then, the world is large.