What We Are

How can we see perfection in a tree,
or in a sunset,
but not in ourselves,
or in each other?

Each one of us
is no less a miracle,
no less an expression
of the sublime.

A tree does not cripple itself
with self-judgement,
or analysis;
it simply is.

Why have we not learned this simple skill:
to accept ourselves for what we are,
as one more expression of the divine,
experiencing its own divinity,
and cherishing the divinity
of everything around us?