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am I a mystery to myself
45 years in this body and still not at home
clanking around in this flesh
this skin sheathed bucket of blood and bones

don’t we all want to go home
to be whole
complete what
evolving never ending opening unfolding
of spririt souring gliding into blue skies
life as seen through these blue eyes
has been a compilation of true grit
a blurry buzz of smiling crying
living dying dancing around

around again
I face myself
and love

it is not perfection we seek
but a perfect loving

Posted via web from Andrea Starbird

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