Polished by a couple hundred repetitions
Think
How appalling my first self
Surely was, to start
I wonder
Of that first iteration
What shards and tattered scabs
What stubbornly resistant bits
Remain?
And which are new
Or if not truly new
Uncovered, excavated
Polished
Brought to light
And by what tics and
Fundamental flaws would one dear to me
Spot me in a heartbeat
This time ‘round
The sages say with time
And work
With meditation
I become more like myself
And
Closer to perfection
I suspect my deepest parts
Those most truly me
Are petty
Adamantine spikes resistant to reform
Fears and insecurities
Excessive self-regard
If I’m destined
Through these lives
To bump against you time and time again until
I get it right
I think we’re in for
Many more encounters
That being so, go hard on me
In each new bout, push me a little further down the path
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