My father once told me
"In life, you either sink or swim."

     I wasn't expecting the water to be so deep.
So I keep treading and holding my breath; Waiting to be pulled under by all the promises I never kept.

You're so big
and great and glorious
and endless and amazing
and perfect
and You don't need
tiny
little
ordinary
me
and yet You saw
tiny
little
ordinary
me
and i don't know what You saw in
tiny
little
ordinary
me
but You chose to take
my heart and make it Your home,
and You chose to make of
tiny
little
ordinary
me
a canvas
to display Your glory,
to shine Your light
and even though You don't need
tiny
little
ordinary
me
You chose to give me a chance.

There is a way to be whole again.
It starts with realising that you aren't the characters from your books,
Nor the popular personas you fabricate at night,
It starts with accepting that there's no one else you can be,
You are both the first and last you,
So automatically,
You are the best you there will ever be.
So for every cut and broken piece,
There is a way to be whole again.

I used to think the best thing was floating,
Letting your head fall back as you're drifting,
Waving hand-shapes through the tranquil sea.

But then I noticed that without swimming,
Without the times when you find the strength to kick your legs,
And life's a long distance struggle against an unyielding tide,
You would never ever know,
The contentment of floating.

And I noticed that without storms,
Without the times when the waves roar endlessly,
And life's a crashing ocean in the sandy bay of your mind,
You would never ever know,
The contentment of floating.

Then I noticed that without diving,
Without the times when you explore the ocean floor,
And life's an appreciation of the new and the scary,
You would never ever know,
The contentment of floating.

I used to think the best thing was floating,
But I noticed that the journey there,
Is just as good.