Sense of isolation – so difficult to bear
As I sit here thinking in my old wooden chair
As a man I’m imperfect – I’ve long accepted that plight
I’ve given up smugness, and always being right
My life in front of me, hindered by hindsight
Fearing regression, and remembering blindsides
So thirsty for progression, and dreading setbacks – I continue searching for something
And trying never to look back.
So I sit here thinking, in my old wooden chair
Of me sitting here thinking, and of others sitting somewhere
I think of the courage it has taken – to remember the struggles and pain
I pray for more courage – to endure them again.
I think of my journey, I think of the miles.
I think of the lessons I learned all the while.
I remember the tears, I remember the fights
– I remember my meanness, and still wish I could set it right.
So today sitting here, in this old wooden chair,
I’m grateful for humility, and for those that were always there.
I can’t say that I’m perfect, or smarter – but yet I’m still standing tall
I continue to fight – though at times I’m tired and crawl
And I’m grateful for that, on this day sitting somewhere,
Thinking my own thoughts
In this old wooden chair