Doubt niggles at me,
pokes and gently prods as though irritating me to
look at it.
To understand my imperfections,
my soul’s tiredness at having to point out
why do I feel unworthy for the Universe?
But it’s nothing to do with that,
it has everything to do with my perception,
the way I look up to appreciate the heavens,
within my heart I can grasp its acceptance,
so why can’t I apply the same small principles to myself?
Doubt is an insipid disease which weaves its way
not only through your bloodstream
but inside your marrow.
It can become a part of you.
It can become lively within you,
thriving on the seeds of self-doubt you’ve
cast within you.
Seeds down, spread for the next harvest,
they promise wealth, abundance, safety, security,
but what does my crop promise me when fruitful?
The doubt, the doubt, the doubt,
it encompasses me whole.
I must learn to be more accepting of myself,
turning what I view as negatives into positivity,
protagonist of my life am I,
I need not remain at home lamenting,
simply because every time I realise what
my earthly home, my corporeal form has become,
all I feel is quiet shame
and then I need to be alone.
I have allowed my growth to rise forth
and to affect me
in a negative manner,
but isn’t the doubt what’s calling me to
behave so unappreciative?
I don’t mean it to be this way,
won’t it rain, it rain, it rain?
Under the cleansing clouds,
I will exist,
to feel their wondrous power.
Physicality, it’s merely our lent forms
which we occupy each day,
best take advantage my time here of Earth
because those passed seconds and minutes
will never return again,
they will never have the chance to be recovered.
© 2020 Lauren M. Hancock. All rights reserved.
Photo by Criativithy from Pexels
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