Constantly angry and relentless

Stubbornly grasping

Yearning and straining

For what is just out of reach

Bitter and impatient

Blazing with frustration

Radiating out hatred onto the world at large

Turning things over and over

Hurting myself in the process

Why is nothing working?

Why am I stuck?

Forgetting it is all stories

A question of perspective

That this impossible goal on the horizon

The one reminding me of how small I am

How incapable

Mocking me in all my efforts

That this outer goal could well be a seed

That sits within me

That already exists in its own right

And all I have to do

Rather than cursing and straining

Is to tend to it

Water it

Protect it

And place it on the right terrain

It’s already there

It’s already mine

Right here and right now

There is no need to fear or to agonise

To blame or to criticise

The fruit is invisible

But it’s contained inside

And instead of always yearning to be elsewhere

To be someone I’m not

I could choose to be a garden.

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