Poetry

Constant

There is no scarcity principle

When it comes to self compassion

I get so fed up

When I make the same mistakes

Again and again

Every time I err

I have to summon every last ounce

Of forgiveness and courage

So as not to retrace the familiar path

On which I parade my shame

Life is not a simulated game

With limited second chances

Or second tries

Our limit is in the skies

God would not deny

My sincere remorse

I thought I would burst through the storm

And there would be Joy and peace

These things

Are there

But I suppose one does not just ‘arrive’

This is the bitter sweet reality of truly being alive

In the sweet acceptance of on going adversity

And continued awareness of the necessary recalibation

And regular reflection

My battle for balance wages

It’s okay to bloom and wilt in stages

His grace is

Constant too

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