Every night since life began,
I have been lulled to sleep;
Lulled by your deafening whisper;
Rocked by your protecting arms.

You have to think more.
You have to do more.
You have to be more.

You tell me to do my best.
“That’s all I ask,” you say.
“It’s not much,” you say.
“I’ll never be disappointed,” you say.

But what happens when my best
Doesn’t measure up?
When I don’t come out on top?
When things don’t go
According to your master plan?

You tell me to do my best,
But you’re really saying,
“Do my best.”

Have I lost myself in your standards?
Have I become less like me,
And consumed in you?

No. I do not strive to do your best.
I do not strive to be the best.
I do not even seek my own best.
I simply seek to know the beauty
Of what is beyond be.

Now I am lulled to sleep
By the crunching of leaves,
And the snapping of twigs.

I am cradled in the raw power
Of the ocean tide,
Controlled by the moon,
Far beyond my reach
And far beyond
My mortal comprehension.