Slowly, slowly I’ve cottoned on
I’ve learnt to catch-up to my Soul
And her whisperings
No longer am I surprised
When faced with a new direction
When the one that I had
And clung on to
Needs to die
And be buried.

Now I’m more used
To the twists and the turns
To the shocks and the gasps
At what I felt sure would endure
Starts to unravel and feel old
And I’m left reminded
That only change is certain.

As my Ego grips tightly
My Soul can relax
As I dare feel what it’s like
To let go and trust
What’s ahead is unknown
A blank canvas awaits
And that is all that I am sure.

How hard to let go
Of that which gave me purpose
Of that role I once fit
So perfectly
So neatly
So sure.

Yet what is dead is dead
No use trying to revive
Rather aid in the composting
To lay the bed for that which may
Yet surprise.

And fill me with wonder
And joy
A new calling perhaps?
Once the new alignment
Taking shape deep within
Is complete;
At least for now.

© Angela Dunning, 5 May 2016

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