I hear the call to

be better than the 

fragile person that

I most surely am.

 

I see my worldly actions 

that are sometimes

good but also conflicted

and driven by self alone.

 

I touch the texture of this 

rough and uneven life that 

can be smooth and fine or 

sharply cruel as fresh smashed glass.

 

I taste the sweetness

that I can bring and also

the bitter gall that hides

itself at the corner of my throat.

 

I smell my lovely flowered scent

that brings delight for all around,

but then the waft of decay

and the acrid perfume of doubt.

 

I sense all these things

in the person that I am,

and use them as an artist

to sculpt the human I can be.

 

10/1/2019