I feel tired.
Maybe you do, too.
Tired of trying
To control it all.

To plan,
Prepare,
Be ready for life
In all her forms.

As if we had to “be ready”
For the surprise
That will
Happen anyways.

I feel ready,
Ready to let go,
To just show up,
And receive the
Life that’s here.

Let go,
And let god,
They say.
So it seems,
That my humanness
Is ready for that.

Even if feels
Uncomfortable.
Unsafe.
Risky.

What’s risky
Is holding
On too tightly
When my hands
Keep bleeding
With each misstep.

What once
Felt safe,
Feels lifeless.
Life sucked
Out of pockets
Of contortion.

Contorting magic
Like it wasn’t
A gift,
But a burden.

Magic is to be
Held,
Spacious,
And sweet,
Trusting,
And befriended.

To let go,
And open
To what’s unknown.

Expand into
Possibility
That I can’t
See with my
Egoic lens.

I’m ready.
Ready to receive
And not ask
For how
Things should
Go anymore.

To let go efforting
And force.
Surrender reigns
To divine
Orchestration.

Maybe,
There is more
Safety in that,
Not less.
More possibility
In that.

More room
For love to
Reveal itself
In all her forms
And majesty.
More room
For me to grow.

So,
I am ready.
Ready to let go.
And when I forget,
May I remember
How to open my hands,
Release gripping
Squeeze of
Their grasp.

And soften once
More
Back
Into
Grace.