Miracle of Who I Am

Sometimes,
I am afraid.
Desperately afraid,
of missing it.
Missing the window in which all of life happens.

It's frame,
cold and unforgiving,
a constant out of reach,
towers over any place I stand.

It is because I forget,
again and again,
that confused and desperate thinking,
says that the window,
is a place.

A destination I need willfully enter.
Rather than a godly space,
I need simply lay down and remember,
the miracle of who I already am.