Damn right you have a beautiful heart.

Nights we look to the sky
Seeking answers and inspiration
Mornings our eyes hunger for the horizon
Seeking hope, seeking light
We find the beauty all around us.
Around us, not in reflection not within ourselves

I look in the distance and I can see it, and I can feel it, sometimes when all the conditions are right I can even smell it so close I can almost taste it, but I do not believe it, not yet, not yet.
I woke up this morning heavy and feeling like a failure I set out to write and I just stopped with a bunch of excuses in my mind, I will not go into the excuses because no matter how valid they feel, I know I must not stop what I love to do but I tapped out, that round and I try not to live in the failure of then and focus on now, now is the moment I can succeed now is the moment I can write again.
It is easy to be hard on yourself, we do it so quick it’s not even a thought, I know that I am not alone in this many of my friends are their greatest critic, and if I listen to people out there they are almost cruel to themselves that if they do a mistake its almost the end of the world, and our reflection becomes dirty or we are a mistake of a person, now I know that is not the words what people will say but if you listen and see, you see it we can not tolerate our own mistakes or weaknesses.

There is a difference being your, own critic and degrading yourself.
It is like walking a tight rope either your walking or your falling there is a big difference.
Walking on the rope
If I write a poem and read it back and think it can be better {whatever better means to me} then I know I have the potential to improve on the poem and or the craft I enjoy, I believe in myself even if I am not happy with the work {THE WORK} I just did that’s okay because I know with time and some effort I can craft these words to a poem I am proud of, I know it is within.
Falling
But often, more often then I would like, my work in progress poem is a representation of me, of my lack of skill, my weakness, I am the problem, I can’t because I am SHIT.

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When we make mistakes lie to someone get angry or lust after a man or woman we define ourselves by that feeling or emotion we catalogue ourselves as being a lesser human and the whatever perceived flaw is woven into our DNA and that is not true, done deal.
We have the potential to see the beauty in all things we see it in the instant a baby is born, an infant with the infinite potential of human and we see it in the stars we see it in the daily life we find it in people as if they are a mountain filled with lava and we are a heat-seeking missile we find it in them and go for it praise it motivate them but still it is the mirror we avoid, I remember when I was young and we would have a guest over to our house my mother’s words was almost always the same, “sorry the house is a bit of a mess” but just yesterday my mother was on her knees scrubbing the tiles and the whole day was spent to clean the house, the air in the house even smells of lavender and some other incense stick dragon rose or whatever and yet every time “sorry for the house”

If, home is where the heart is, when will we be enough when will we stop scrubbing when will we stop apologising when will we see that we are beautiful, when will we start aiming those heat-seeking missiles toward our own heart and discover the truth of who we are, we are amazing beautiful humans if you can see it in others realise it is because its something you recognise within yourself we have been taught this culture of breaking ourselves down ninja-style, you can’t say it too obviously and shout that you feel like a piece of shit, but you can be mannered and underplay the neatness of your house because otherwise, you are prideful and arrogant, so we sneak insults to ourselves or underplay our art and or work, we shoot ourselves in the foot if we feel like we make one wrong step because mistakes are sinful we need to stop that shit. Stand proud of your poem and your house damn right you have a beautiful heart.

I look in the distance and I can see it, and I can feel it, sometimes when all the conditions are right I can even smell it so close I can almost taste it, but I do not believe it, not yet, not yet.

Thank you for reading
Peace and Love.

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