Can what I have become,
What I desire to be,
What I should be,
And what the universe demands I become,
Ever truly be reconciled?
At what point in a life,
Do we count remaining days,
As opposed to counting the days past?
Spout the cliches, declare the value of our days?
At some point, the truth must be known,
But there must be a reckoning within one’s self.
And is the truth regarding me of value to others?
Is their knowledge of me of any consequence?
Or do I simply fear their judgment?
This life I live, is it for me?
Are my days a selfish attempt,
Only to find some personal joy,
To do those things from which I derive pleasure,
Wrapped up only in myself?
Or is this life lived for others?
Shall I live selflessly,
Seeking to make others happy,
Hoping for words of praise,
Living only for their blessing?
My days are numbered and few,
Each dawning more precious than the last.
I can never know how many I have,
Nor the quality of the time,
That remains for me.
So let me aim for happiness,
Whatever that may be.
Let me seek to give to others,
Whatever joy I’m capable of,
While also taking time for self.
But along the way you must know,
That I will disappoint you,
That I will fall short of who,
Or even what you think,
I should be or become.
This should cause no harm.
For while I prefer your approval,
It is neither the only thing,
Nor even the greatest thing.
For this must be my life.
Instead, share in my life,
Revel with me in the beauty of being.
We can take part in all it offers.
Be that most beautiful of things.
Be my friend.
And when that day comes,
When that dark secret comes to light,
Come to no conclusions.
Accept that we are equal,
And both humanly flawed.
Whatever it is that I am,
Will fall far from what you or others,
Feel that I could be or should be.
I may yet become improved,
But my spots are hard to change.
Yes I’m sure I will come up short.
And perhaps it’s not up to us.
For what I am, could be or should be,
May only or never in days to come,
Ever truly be reconciled.