Good Morning

This is my roar in the morn, Singing Lord! give me more, stretch out my body at the shore, the sea is a rough page and I intend to make my mark on the biggest of all stages, pain is a part of growth, we all struggle to know since nothing is easy but everything's fair, compare not yourself to the weak hearted and scared, for you don't know the courage harbored in quiet shells.

Much of what I do these days, much of what I say, is a clumsy improvisation. A wild and desparate attempt to make shapes in the darkness. I try to speak truth, but truth is only possible with immense strength. I see such truthful words every once in a while and I am humbled. A wild brush fire burns quickly. I hope for pheonix's flight, and indeed, from the ashes I am reborn everyday. But even a bird that lives for a million years feels the fleeting nature of time.

Please excuse these ramblings for the moment. I promise to bring home something good, someday.

Peace.