Accepting One’s Reality

Broken promises, lost work,
a door slammed,
a diagnosis spoken too quietly,
someone leaving without explanation,
these storms arrive
looking like invaders,
as if hurled at us
by some careless universe.

But beneath the first sting
is the faint whisper that every fracture, every detour,
is a place we built brick by unseen brick,
a landscape forming to show us something
we once refused to see.

Because we walk into moments our own hands prepared,
the harsh ones, the luminous ones,
each a teacher disguised
as circumstance.

We are always exactly where the lesson waits,
never late, never unworthy, never denied
the wisdom we call ourselves toward.

The yin and the yang entwine,
the blessing and the bruise
born of the same pulse,
our pulse,
reminding us that nothing happens TO us;
we carve the path that carries us.

And when the day folds itself closed
and the room grows quiet with only our breath for company,
loneliness tries to settle like dust on an unused table.
But in the stillnessa soft clarity arrives,
that this quiet is not emptiness but invitation,
a simple, steady truth that rises from within:
we created all of it, and we can create again.

We’re always right where we need to be.