If I could love you in spite of the wreck of a person you are,
with all the lies you believe about yourself,
with all the anger you have for the world,
If I could let you into my life, knowing the mess you would create,
If I could accept you as you are, never judging, always loving, despite your sea of faults and shortcomings,
If I could love you and take you in, with all the baggage you drag along,
Am I playing God? Wishing I could bring you hope and love and peace? Am I just being a friend? Reaching out . . .
When does selflessness become folly?
Note: The "you" in this writing isn't anyone in particular, but I wrote this about a number of people who have been in my life.