Suppose

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Suppose she never faltered in her stride,
Never equivocated, never went adrift,
Before finding her way;

Suppose she were never vain,
Never petulant, never moody,
Before being her affable self;

Suppose she were never silly,
Never imprecise, never inane,
Before assuming the pedestal of intelligence;

Suppose she were always in control,
Never ruffled, never rattled,
Before recovering her familiar composure;

Suppose she were the “ideal” god,
The perfect embodiment of everything perfect,
Never a fault, never a failing…

In this world of bungling humans,
She surely would have many more worshippers,
More disciples, more devotees...

But not me, not me for sure.
For what god is she in this world of mortals,
If she can’t, can’t for a while be a bungling mortal herself!