I'm often quiet,
Though I'm also often very not.
Sometimes I think myself a riot.
Sometimes I feel I sit and rot.
In the past, I've pulled my hair out
Twisting and turning, writhing, and screaming,
Trying to discover what this whole Thing is all about.
Tears wash my eyes, leaving my face beaming.
I remark often to myself
Just how hard I try to find the parts of me deemed valuable
And the parts best left up on the dusty shelf.
Truth be told, in this game of dress-up...
I've found myself quite malleable.
I've held up each part
One by one for all to inspect.
"Is this the part you deem worthy?"
"Is this what will win me your respect?"
Its a game and a rotten one at that.
In which many a cynic and child quickly perish.
While others just grow ill and fat.
I won the game by finding what I, myself, most cherish.
The game is played alone.
It is You that decides your worth.
We each desperately search for honor to own.
Here's the secret to relaxing into eternal mirth.
You - yes, you - have to remember just one thing,
Which is truly rather concrete.
Recall that before the game you were complete - already winning.
And with your sense of eternal worth you were altogether discrete.
Understand that you will only be enough
If you, yourself, declare it so.
Understand that you don't need fixing or more stuff.
Your doubt in yourself you need only stow.
Love yourself, dear one; I submit to you this dare.
Darling of the gods, literally made of star dust -
Show up every day with all yourself to share,
And remember that within and without live perfect Love and perfect Trust.
Namaste.
Blessed Be.
