One of my eyes is slightly wider than the other.

I’m the oldest, but the shortest of all my brothers.

These imperfections, they fill up the space

Under rippling skin, and I can’t escape.

But there is another,

Loving embrace.

There is always another brick in somebody’s wall

There is always a farther foot

That your neighbor has fallen.

There is always a tragedy

Where trouble is calling,

But there is always a promise

For an end to the sorrow.

We all have our hang-ups.

We are all strangled at the hands

Of our own poor decisions.

But seeing them through,

And loving what you do,

This is the meaning.

This is the mission.