I am not perfect.

A walk on a beautiful crisp Sunday morning around Florence. I stop and sit on the steps of the Church in Santo Spirito overlooking the bustling markets. It is a crazy, hectic, beautiful energy; yet I find peace in the chaos. These words fell out of my mind and onto a scrap piece of paper. For once I will just let them be. No tweaking, editing, criticizing or wondering what anyone will think. This is for me.

I am not perfect.
I have been the cause of hurt, and have hurt; shedding many a silent tear.
I have also laughed the loudest, and held the longest smile; and hope I have been the cause of this in others.
I have fallen deeper than the roots of the oldest tree and have soared unlimited through the skies on the wings of an eagle; yet I have also lay dormant through some of the chapters of my life - oblivious like a bear in hibernation.
I am the result of everything that has been, and the eager anticipation of everything that will be, all happening simultaneously in the now.
I have a lot of love to give, if and when I let down the walls of my heart.
I dance to my own rhythm, though it may not make sense to many.
I believe in the good in people, even when I see the opposite.
I believe in the good in me, even when I act the opposite.
I will fall off my path many a time, but I know I will always find my way back.
I am getting better at recognizing friend from foe, both the visible and the guises of the mind.
None of this rhymes, is fluent, or even eloquent.
But it says what I want it to.
Maybe no one else will ever read this, but I know it is here.

I am not perfect, but in this moment...
I am the perfect version of me.

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