I beg myself to make a mark,
my shadowed fears play in the dark.
I know that I could light the spark,
but hesitance builds whispered barks.
Clumsy vigor loses its pace,
running quickly while still in place.
Pray for the slightest touch of grace,
so I do not fall on my face.
Ease the tension off my shoulders,
standing tall, while feeling bolder.
My inner strength slowly smolders,
steering fate as the beholder.
Every new step carries great force,
a serene peace flows through each course.
Focus my view like a racehorse,
creating moves, guided by source.
– Grace Y. Estevez- Reddy