My world is Fragile.
Like Burnt Toast.
Crumbling with every Treacherous Thought;
Beheld like a crystallized cobweb,
ready to be shattered by the wind of fate.
Why do I let this continue, when fate is not an option,
just an old belief, rooted deeply into my ancestral brain?
The weeds of falsehood take over my garden
where brambles and barbs clamor for the light.
Every bit of goodness is weakened and trodden under foot,
and I stand by - gawping.
The rush of circumstance surrounds me like flood waters
If I could breathe and draw my sword of Clarity,
I would be rescued,
Here & Now.
But doubt and weakness claw at me,
smirking, flailing, taunting - all around,
Time whips me like a spinning top & I am Flawed.
Face down, I crouch. Ashamed.
Defiance! tugs at me.
"This is ME!"
"This is who I AM!"
I stand up. Like second wind,
Surrendered to my imperfections;
"Yes! this is who I am";
Weak, and helpless, and in need.
I give up the fight,
and instead - Bend - with my plight -
More flexible & light.
The rain is falling now,
my toasty world is softened,
I absorb its goodness.
Here, Peace 'IS' - The ONLY defense.
All falls away, towards my feet,
a pool of Acceptance lies there
and Reflects who I really am.
The vision is blue, and deep, clear and wide, with bright golden edges.