Make Each Mark Count

[tikatarot]

I return to the essential, aware that I sometimes complicate things because I don’t trust what’s simple,
I return to the essential, I admit I’ve added more and more because I didn’t trust my first truth, and now that mistrust made everything blurry,
I return to the essential, aware that complexity can become camouflage when I’m afraid to be direct,
I return to the essential, asking whether I will let the heart of it be visible without defense,
I return to the essential, letting the extra fall away and breathing through the space it leaves behind…

I make each mark count, I notice how every small choice carries a cost, and when I add careless details I’m basically spending attention I don’t even have,
I make each mark count, I admit I’ve thrown lines and words onto a page like noise, then blamed myself for not feeling proud of the result,
I make each mark count, I confess I want my work to feel intentional, but I also want to rush, and that contradiction keeps showing up in these drafts,
I make each mark count, asking whether this choice strengthens the whole or merely fills the space,
I make each mark count, moving slowly enough to let intention guide my hand…

I soften the reaction at its root, seeing how intensity has become a familiar language inside me,
I soften the reaction at its root, I admit I’ve used overwhelm to justify snapping, procrastinating, disappearing, then felt guilty when I had to explain myself later,
I soften the reaction at its root, I confess my emotions are real but they are not always wise, and I’m tired of letting them run the room as often,
I soften the reaction at its root, is this expression helping me or just rehearsing chaos again,
I soften the reaction at its root, placing one calmer action where a sharper one used to live, and allowing it to stand…

I choose inward repair over outward display, aware that I sometimes dwell in pain to validate that what I’m feeling matters,
I choose inward repair over outward display, aware that performing my hurt doesn’t bring relief—it just prolongs the ache,
I choose inward repair over outward display, learning that dignity moves softly, and softness feels strange when I’m used to intensity,
I choose inward repair over outward display, am I willing to soothe myself internally and silently,
I choose inward repair over outward display, I hold my own hand and settle down, and let that be the bravest thing I do…

Watchwords:
I hide behind complexity for protection,
Every small choice carries a cost,
My emotions are real, not always wise,
Is this expression helping me at all,
I hold my own hand and settle,

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Here is Tikatarot, who dares you to answer the question, “Who am I?”..

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As and will always be reminding you to dream:
“As you are still the Master of your destiny and the maker of your dreams…”

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