Resolve to think quietly & bravely,
taking up the burden of selflessness.
You will fail. You will try to solve it all.

Words of wisdom will come -- maybe not yours --
and you'll discover the burden lightened,
the effort cleansing. Your mind will seem clear,
but the worry, the ego will return.

Spectres of judgment & mercy will dance
through the torn curtain of your certainty
while you limp & pause, ready to give up.
This part -- a kind of death -- comes to us all.

A thistle weighed down by rain bends earthward.
With time, with grace, with the light of the skies,
it rights itself -- frail, still, rooted, alive. 

Written in community with VerseLove, a group of mostly educators writing a poem every day of April (National Poetry Month). The prompt for today: Write a poem of instruction.