This is unfinished. This is imperfect.
Hands manifest my mind, and that's enough.

The faults and failures are me —
but me becoming better.

I do not owe perfection. I owe momentum.
I didn’t fail.
I work-hardened.

Let the mountain of incomplete I crafted
shield me from voices that never dared.

Let the cracked gems I extracted
be the glint in my eyes.

Let the dings in the metal
be my manuscript.

For I am the hands that mold it,
I am the mind that wills them,
and my work continues.

Litany of the Maker

I needed something to ground me, something to check my compass against.

Here it is, maybe it helps you too.