Blue appears the perfect color for the sky,
wings work well for the birds as they fly.
How then are the things of which I consist,
so inappropriate for a world such as this?
The powers that are vital here for success,
in me are wholly lacking or scarce at best:
The stress expected by our environment,
the drive to strive is not my native talent.
Oh! To live in a place I’m constituted,
of inner gifts and outer needs well suited.
Where I can lay aside my soul’s contortions,
myself within the world now well proportioned.