We humans are so easily discouraged:
One bad painting — or two, or three —
And I question: perhaps I’m not really an artist?
Time to go outside — and in the yard I find
The tree I’d thought was dead
Is covering itself in blossoms
After a two year hiatus.
Breathe deep, and trust:
What’s meant to be may take its time,
But it’s still there; just resting, gaining strength.
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