*Thank you to my book missionary who made me re-discover - after a long time of dodging - the thrills of reading :)
Friday, November 11
Where I'm at in this world has yet to sink in. Being recognized for something you detest doing. Making ends meet by peddling something you abhor. It's ironic really, a wonder if you must. But then we make do with what life offers. You bounce through time's breeze... holding down your heart though the wind's every cough, praying that the next gust will find you in your cradle of peace. And you create ripples as you tip toe through tenuous tracks. Seeing your eyes lodged in your co-pilgrims' grimaced face. You realize that again, you must own your story... for in the end you possess nothing but that. Nothing earthly nor intangible to boast of. Everything's borrowed. At times, stolen. And in the end it's just that. Being recognized for something you detest doing. Making ends meet by peddling something you abhor.