The feeling on the cusp of failure or greatness
Is the same
Not sorrow or acclaim
But butterflies, discomfort, and pain
Moments before eureka
Like the deafening silence from a speaker
On stage with a microphone, forgotten words
Crowd senses the tension, man this is for the birds
Fear is a phantom but youza Ghostbuster
He finds his nerve, her spirit she musters
In a calm and even tone the speech begins
Good evening enemies and friends...