I may not ever be
The best
At anything
In Life
No matter
How much I practice,
But I strive
To be
The most
Grateful,
Loving,
Kind
As a continual
Habit of praxis
To cultivate
These treasures
Far more important
And beyond measure
Than any medal, trophy, prize
That I could ever hope to win
In any game within Life,
For people remember
How you made them feel
And all the smiles
Left behind
With zeal
That forge a warm hearth
To be birthed
Between you and I
To gather two-gether
As one tribe
Born
Of the same purpose
And design
To mend,
To comfort,
To heal
As all illusion
Dissolves in time
Where we mirror the reflection
Of who we truly are inside
To find
No more confusion
In the truth
Of Heaven revealed :
Only Love is real...
2021, barefoot poet
{ Photo by Todd Trapani on Unsplash - couldn't find a good pickleball reflection image as my sport of choice currently - wrote this after a tough tourney where I simply didn't have "it" and was feeling burned out... reflecting on what truly matters }