It's divinely inscribed that loving means patience
and kindness, honesty, humility, and hope:
Most things that are lacking in my personnel essence,
a setback tying me down like a rope.
Now the challenge arises, to tread a new pace.
Take the road less traveled, unlearn what I knew.
As for weakness written well all over my face,
I'm not only hopeful, I'm horrified too.
To watch things unfold to the slow beat of my heart,
see things as they are instead of how it might be;
and though I am eager to see the next part,
I revel in the unrushed, gentle moments of happy.
Because good things come to all those who wait;
I know that one day, it will surely be great.
I haven't written a sonnet in forever, but this one came to me with ease. Consistency in things have been painfully absent in my life, but one can definitely be surprised about which things last when supported with the right amount of work.
