My friend, I will not judge thee, only love thee until we are old and need a cane.
You are a flower with your own lyre in a garden I see;
My words, my words, flow humbly flow to thee:
O friend, I will not judge thee, as I wish to be free from judgement.
I am patience, your devoted friend, as I have felt the sting--of impatience.
I offer thee beginner's mind, the mind of a devoted monk, abandoning any backpack carried for years. I am light; I am free. I am here for thee.
I know the peace of trust; thus, I offer it to you. Feel my arm 'round your shoulders.
I've dissolved in pools of acceptance - so I offer you an eddy of reflection in which I accept your entire being.
Holding resentment is like a poison, letting go I free unencumbered like gentle leaves
rocked in the trees. Forgiveness extends, extends to thee.
Seeking to be better than you takes me to competition, so I abandon striving at your expense.
Working ably and well sounds it's own trumpet. In non-striving, we both are free.
Dear friend, if I am your friend, I accept you--utterly.
In faith, love, and hope - stay with me.