Stacks of papers upon my desk are a sign of unaccomplished assignments. Waiting for perfection is a “halt.” Frustrated, I run motionless. But wisdom says I have a doorway you can walk through. Run I say run…. As I tripped over being perfect, skinned knees bleeding, I asked… why stop when you can be crawling? Who said you have to be perfect anyway?
Is this a poem or a scribble or a thought or a curse? Why am I measuring my wisdom? Is it important for those who know me not, to understand my direction? Do I care what they think? Spinning my wheels is frustrating and I go in search of peace.
I have come this far, yet I wait to be encouraged before each step… why? I am not angry, I am not shallow. In the end it’s my responsibility to “forward.” I would much rather show the world the painting, with a few smears, than stack them in the closet collecting dust.
I can’t do it perfect and I can’t always wait to listen to the opinions of others. Are the pencils sharp and the pen full of ink? So say what you need to say, or be quiet. Untie the knot, let loose the baggage, and write. After all, it’s not about impressing anyone…is it?
My weakness is a short measuring stick, and I broke it in half. Less of me is still better than none. Wrestling within my own mind I have lost the battles I have won. Still stuck in the mud, but shoveling.
In the end I would rather enjoy my faults. Like a child who crashed his bike and is proud peeling back the band aid to prove it. A little suffering for a moment produces the story of a life time. I think now is the perfect time to embrace it.
My tone has changed a bit. But my purpose remains the same. Be all that you can be, the decision is what army. Today is the day of decisions and acceptance. I will not be like you, go with the crowd down the highway of “boring.” The bubble has popped, I can now go exploring because I left behind all that tell me “I can’t.”