I sat alone with starlight as my aide;
My thoughts adrift on echoes of my past,
And deftly cataloged mistakes I made.
The number left me startled and aghast.
In welcome, veiling darkness, I grew pale,
And shook with bitterness I could not hide;
As I examined each precise detail,
My heart wrenched in its prison and I cried.
The icy starlight offered no relief.
The burden of my past seemed shattering,
Until my heart recalled my firm belief,
Only what’s done in love is mattering.
Wisdom I found to save my aching soul:
Perfection is a guide and not a goal.
Mick McKellar
February 2015
Upon reflection, my life has long been about embracing errors and learning from the mistakes I've made.
Mick
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