We are born painfully imperfect,
unable to exist without the support of a parent.
Weak and helpless,
our dependence hangs off us like an ill-fitting cloak,
easily identified by those who know what to look for.
As we grow, our bones strengthen
and we seemingly cast off the cloak
that once clung so tightly to us
"I am strong now," we think.
"I need nothing but my own power."
But maybe that was never the point.
For, to those who know what to look for,
our dependence is still excruciatingly obvious
our bravado, easily seen through.
We are still painfully imperfect,
an immutable truth on this side of eternity,
His Grace our only true source
of strength and support.
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