Inner Reflections

 That a child doesn’t fly immediately after birth,

why do I worry myself over those I couldn’t change?
Why do I allow what I lack the power to shift
to cripple the very things my strength could build?

Why am I clumsy?
Why do I think I can do it all alone,
when even my birth required two bodies becoming one?

Time is endless, but progress is gradual.
Process is the deal, not wishfulness.
My mind may have it all figured out,
but birthing anything is never that easy.

Teach me:
one plus one is never eleven; it is two.

Two hands make a grip.

Two feet make a walk.

Two breaths make a rest.

Teach me to breathe easy.

“When a man sees his end, he wants to know there was some purpose to his life.” - Marcus Aurelius

Not panic. Not speed.
Just the next small brick.

Purpose is not a scream.
Purpose is showing up
like a seed that doesn’t ask the dirt for a rush order.

Consistency is the mother of all flying,
even if the child waits a year
to try.