The way of love is not
a subtle argument.
The door there
is devastation.
Birds make great sky-circles
of their freedom.
How do they learn it?
They fall, and falling,
they're given wings.
~ Rumi
This little poem gives me hope. I gave up lots to pursue a dream. Right now it feels like I might fail. Like it is not going quite as planned. It also reminds me of the beautiful image offered in the first stanza of the Emily Dickinson poem, Hope:
Hope is the thing with feathers
That perches in the soul,
And sings the tune--without the words,
And never stops at all,
Feathers and wings, singing and falling to fly, I will go on doing what I love. Doing, making, not judging, believing...hoping