The words won’t come
What am I waiting for?
What am I resisting?

If answers were easy
We’d skip through life
But the potholes stop us

Pot holes, rabbit holes
Something linked to the past
That keeps us tied

Conditioning by others
There is no right answer
No guarantee of success

Just peace in the now.

I being drawn to not doing. As if this is the time to breath.
Accept that reading a book is a legitimate way to spend my time. Pull weeds. Sit on the old tree stump and feel myself flowing into the earth. It it enough?

Maybe, just maybe, yes! I don’t have to earn my worth.