Walls of a Cradle, Not a Cage
Anyone who aims to place me in a box has already lost me,
And the only way to find me is to realize that I mustn’t be found.
Frowned upon for being myself,
Freeing myself from the shackles that I placed myself in:
The expectations that remained from the roots that dug deep into my brain about who I should and should not be.
Fools surround me, reflected back upon multiple mirrors.
Must I also be a mime as my body implies feelings that I think yet do not speak on?
As implied, the fool was I,
For every judgement that I make as an escape from accountability returns back to me; Humility.
Everything sent out, sent back in.
Even the things that I had not given my attention.
Tension when I hand fear the wheel,
And it heals as I pay heed to my humility.
On my knees, and the mercy that I’m shown is the lesson.
May it be present as I attract this future.
May it be patient as I break and shake off those shackles of the past.
Is this too much to ask?
The only task that I’ve given myself is to do my best,
The rest is most likely forgiven.
I’ve given myself permission to make mistakes.
What matters is the lessons that I choose to take from them.
Will I, from that point, do it again?
Rather than defending myself against harmful habits,
Participating in the practice of toxic magic by perpetuating patterns of judgement,
And thus: Self infliction,
By being on the receiving end of a presumptive vision,
That I entertained for personal gain to boost my pride and ego:
Sent out and sent back in.
I do my best to send out peace,
And all of these qualities that I wish to embody and receive.
We tend to present ourselves as we perceive ourselves,
What we send out is what we receive,
So I do my best to intentionally be conscious of the meaning behind my thoughts and words,
As they serve us moving forward,
And hinder us when we use them as poison.
Allow us to send out love,
And as stated before,
The ones who we should first adore is us.
The Love that we share with others will then simply be second nature,
Make sure to be raw and let it ooze out like honey,
From the source of who we truly are at our core.
Distorted when we’ve contorted ourselves into shapes so that we may be placed into tight spaces.
Following narratives that people have attached to our faces, bodies, souls.
Regardless of what we’re told by others, we have the option to choose who we do and do not entertain and engage with,
As well as the stories that we’ve been faced with.
All of these stories handed to us,
But will we choose to take it?