No Matter How Long It Takes

Nobody knows her like she knows herself. In the silent awareness of her inner beauty, it is her voice she will hear loudly and crystal clear. “I am all that I am, all that I can be. Being true to myself I am everything I believe in. When a butterfly comes to rest, it points the way to an understanding of oneself.

No matter how long it takes

there is an ending

to everything.

Is it possible

that what we are after,

after all,

is an expression of self

and in that,

an understanding

of what it is we are meant to do?

All questions are worthy of answers,

or for what reason

would we have to wonder,

we have to question.

In the finale

there could wellness be,

the inauguration of the end

of what we started out to do

in the very beginning.

speaking for myself of course

a lifetime is enough

to know what one has to do

and whether a minute, or a mile

the time it takes

is as far as you will go.

so what you do

with who you are

is what,

without question

you are meant to do

in the time,

that you choose to consider,

and the space

you think you occupy.

 

FREE TO BE ME Free To Be Me. Available on Amazon & Kindle

5 comments on “No Matter How Long It Takes

  1. Sir, you are so prolific and thoughtful! I, more complicated than I was…Self-expression is a wonderful outlet but you have the edge on deeper meaning. I struggle and try and entertain with humorous poetry. It’s a pleasure to make people smile; equally fulfilling to moisten the eye…

    Liked by 1 person

    • My earlier poetry, back in the sixties and seventies was the moistening the eye kind, as I’ve grown older making people smile is a lot more enjoyable, even if the smile rattles the brain and tugs at the heart of what matters.

      Like

  2. Written fifty-five years ago…
    ON BEING A MOTHER
    How can such a small bundle of humanity
    evoke such passionate emotions?
    How can such a tiny scrap of molecules, blood, flesh
    and bone make me feel blessed beyond measure?
    Heaven is in my mind, my heart and my arms.

    Liked by 1 person

  3. “Self” is what it’s all about. We’ve been programmed to think of “self” as selfishness; to become groupies because groupies are easy to control and manipulate whereas individuals are wild and dangerous. We are individuals, not “believers” or “voters” or “workers” or whatever other label and function are attached to us. I think your poem points in the right direction: what you do is who you are; what you are meant to do – “but” it misses the main thrust, I think. For “what you do” to truly represent who you are it must be from inception what you chose to do. That is, you must have stopped yourself in your tracks one day and said, “I will choose a clear and personal purpose to which I will dedicate my life.” Once that purpose is set and the individual goes on to live that purpose, then it can be said without equivocation that this is who and what I AM. I am my purpose and anyone can see it by how I think, what I say and what I do. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone.

    Like

    • I understand having a purpose and have wrestled with that all my life. I have humbly settled on being the best person I can be in loving and respecting the world around me. 50+ years of writing about what I visualize internally and externally in my writing is an expression of that purpose. With respect to “self” take a look at my butterfly poems written as a fundraiser for a women’s mindfulness organization in Canada. I cannot write other than what I believe in. I put together a video https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=4GiEjLBHRzw

      Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s