What was I Thinking

What is it makes me think that I can do it?
“I can” has often wreaked its havoc on my world.
With lofty eyes I put my hand to it
Then oft' times into turmoil I am hurled
Along with others who may live to rue it.

Why am I prone to think that I’ll manage
What those who stand much more informed and fitted scorn
Exuberantly I strike out from my vantage
And soon I find I’m weary, bruised and torn
And struggling my hardest fears to banish.

And though perhaps ‘tis ignorance I follow
And other’s eyes and hands are truer than my own.
Adversity becomes my candle’s tallow
The heavy challenge does my spirit hone;
Without which my existence would be hollow.

2006 DW