Can't

"Can't," said the Child. "Can't, Can't Can't," she chanted as she stomped around the huge lily pad on the ocean.

"Why can't you?" asked The Prophet. 

Sitting in the middle of the lily pad, The Prophet observed the Child's drooping shoulders and bowed head. 

"I can't. I know I can't," The Child replied, and the tears flowed.

"Why is that child?"

"Because I'm tired, and if you really cared about me, you would twirl your magic wand, and free me from my fears."

"Why are you tired, Child?"

"I'm tired of going nowhere. We've been on this lily pad for I don't know how long, and we're still in the same place. Why don't you wave that magic wand of yours and tell it to make something happen?"

A smile came upon The Prophet face.  It amazed him that her discouragement kept her from seeing the progress that she'd made.

"Is that why you can't, Child?"

"I'm just tired and discouraged?"

"Why are you discouraged, Child?"

"You know you're a contagious little disease that contaminates my mind making me think I can find my purpose."

"Child, what are you afraid of?" The Prophet asked.

"I didn't say I was afraid."

"But you are. The nearer you get to your purpose you say, can't, and your shoulders droop.  So tell me, what are you afraid of?"

"I guess I'm afraid of failing," replied The Child.

"Would you like to turn back?"

"No!" The Child said loudly. "I can't turn back."

"Why not?" asked The Prophet?

"Because I don't want to," replied The Child.

"Which means?"

"I won't say can't anymore. Even in failure, there's success." The Child mumbled.

"That's very nice to hear," replied The Prophet.

"Prophet?"

"Yes, Child?"

"Can we dance on the ocean?"

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Shalom,

Pat Garcia