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.