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One Small Step

Sense and sensibility are intuitively guiding me, holding both of my hands.
Morals and morality, my root, holding firm in treacherous shifting sands.
Internal pentameter ticking away, keeping me conscious of passing time.
Believe what you will, we are always just, one step from crossing the line.
And when you do and believe me, we all will, and some of us have already,
The fabric of your life is quickly torn, then one step more and it's shredded.
And like the smell of shit before you see it, something seems so terribly wrong.
And like a hideous screech, something grates, from the harmonies being sung.
And like gone off milk, now it is making me gag and now I am starting to retch.
And like handling spoiled fruit, my hands are sticky from this decaying peach.
Then you will really befriend abject sorrow, all my fault, this pain in others.
Then you realize the strength in them, friends, parents, siblings and lovers.
All my making and just from a single step, don't kid yourself, a massive leap.
If you’re lucky like me, status quo remains, but in quiet moments, you’ll weep.



Makes me think that ...

In work as in life there are many lines. Sometimes we cross with eagerness and haste, some we hesitate, some we avoid, some we resist and some we just have to accept. Loot's broad reflections on the step that takes you over the line resonates in life and in work.


Lorraine Ansell

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This poem is narrated by Lorraine Ansell​ a British female voice over artist who is graciously supporting WorkInWords.

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