This is quite a sidetrack from the original prompt but it’s still got to do with my (ever-changing) expectations of myself for this life.
I used to believe
I could do just anything –
My goals, objectives and dreams
Everyone’d see what I see
But as I grew older
Made rueful and realistic by reality
Dashed hopes, wishes and expectations –
When those I trust failed me
Then I was still, unwavering
So the truth of life came to light
Nothing can we expect, except
An unfolding of what will be
I hold not the reins to my life
But life in its spontaneous glory.