The contest is a lions’ fight. So chin up, put your shoulders back, walk proud, strut a little. Don’t lick your wounds, celebrate them. The scars you bear are the signs of a competitor. You were in a lions’ fight. Just because you didn’t win doesn’t mean you don’t know how to roar.
There’s time. There’s time to count split ends and light candles; to drive slow and sing softly. There’s time to trace the lines around your eyes with a fingertip and draw constellations on your skin. Time enough to close your eyes and tilt your head back and smell the salt in the air even miles away from the sea. Time to seek your peace in the darkest of places and smile down on the lines in the road.
There’s time. There’s plenty of time.