It is all within my reach.
I can have it if I want, I know.
Why do I lull my will to sleep?
Why am I complacent?
I lean over the edge and balk.
I have a slack hand.
Why do I stand petrified?
Why don’t I allow myself to reach forward?
Why am I self-sabotaging?
Oh! Dear me, let me be!
Let me soar into my purpose.
Let me fly, faults and all.