Breathe and greet each new day
Knowing you could wait a lifetime
To be truly nascent,
For that moment to begin.
Sometimes being alive
Can seem so static.
Like standing just across the street
From a string of extraordinary opportunities,
That are just sat there looking at you.
And in quite a mundane way.
Like a queue of regular folk
At a wind swept bus stop,
On some grey rainy day
That no-one cares for.
But see how each of those faces
Smile and glow so,
Without even a trace of rancour
Or expectation,
As they wait patiently
And just for you!
Seemingly forever if they have to…
So trust this is no illusion, my friend.
And, given that,
Accept in your heart you are worthy.
No need for reticence then,
Nor fear of narcissism,
Or indeed the judgement of others.
For what are you if not yourself?
Proud and unashamed,
With so much to offer, to give.
And therein,
Given the seed of self belief,
Lies your chance to shine.
This is forever and always, as it was meant to be.
“If …”
If all the butterflies
are supposed to go to paradise,
Let them fly to the sky ,
Sometimes too low, sometimes too high ,
Never forget you’re here
to let all butterflies fly.
Beautiful poem, my dear friend. But I feel a little more. Perceive music all the time when reading. Just smile. 🙂
Beginning to understand. No longer have to wait. No longer need to be hoped.
When the time comes, I’ll be there.
There’s a “seed of self belief” in each and every one of us, even when we are filled with despair at times. If only we could all allow this little, tiny seed to grow inside of us and let us believe we are worthwhile…
Thank you, Scott!
Life is truly a gift. It is only when we risk losing it that we appreciate what we once had; if we are given another chance, we see life through a different lens, and the faith in possibilities, in becoming more than ourselves, in the goodness of others, is a precious potential.
Beautiful things often so simple, like this poem! 🙂
Like this verse very much –
And in quite a mundane way.
Like a queue of regular folk
At a wind swept bus stop,
On some grey rainy day
That no-one cares for.
Lovely poem…esp. the lines ‘At a wind swept bus stop,
On some grey rainy day’…how poignant!
Scott, I love your use of the word nascent here – I can definitely relate to some of the poems penned by yourself.