The perfectionist in me
sees the sadness I feel as a failure.
The child in me
is angry for what she has been denied.
The mother in me worries
that my mood will affect my children.
The wife in me wants to give
to my husband, help him to be happy.
The teacher in me wants to be authentic
and use these experiences as tools for learning.
The mystic in me
sees all of this as grace expressed in myriad forms
The being in me
just breathes in,
just breathes out.
And all of this unfolds
in the universe of me,
the universe of universes,
the one where the me identity melts away
into the nothingness,
into the all.