The Lesson

It is not a game
But a dance.
Never the same for long,
The steps don’t always
Seem to match the music
And yet it works. Somehow.
Often awkwardly.
I stumble over my feet (or His)
But He keeps leading me on,
Guiding the pace, suggesting
The right movements
For a time.
And then I’m left to keep it up
Without relying on His guidance,
Remember the steps,
Keep pace with the tune,
And just when I feel I’ve got it down,
It’s smooth and easy now,
He pulls me into a new pattern;
The music’s changed again?!
But all the previous movements
Are still in the mix;
I’ve learned at least
To be quicker to adapt to a change in pace
A new set of twists and turns,
Stumbles and falls largely forgotten –
Plenty of time for new ones to come, I fear –
Unpleasant missteps and clumsy falls,
But I won’t be left still for long,
Nursing the hurts.
I must get up, or be pulled,
Back into the rhythm,
The joyous, maddening, semi-predictable,
Predictably perplexing patterns,
Ever-changing and unending
Because it is not a game
To win or lose,
It is a dance.


About Fjothr Lokakvan

More or less Northern Tradition polytheist.
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