The Experience of Mistakes

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There is never a perfect moment
to imagine what could be
There are no alarms or sirens to announce each missed opportunity we seek
We grow to learn to fight each day with one hand in pocket
Squeezing knuckles into tight spaces while fingernailing the fabric
The other hand communicates the
wisdom of the world to the body;
Grasping minutes of times passed
that will only ever be the memories of feelings
But as the sun settles into his nightly retreat and
The stars begin to shine their way into the spare room in our hearts
The mind wanders in and out of the corridors of passage
Taking pleasure in stalling oblivion for just a bit longer
It is in this liminal space of awareness and slumber
To reflect on the gratitude of the experience of mistakes.

I am grateful for sleep ❤

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