The bridge of dreams is the stuff of youthful fairy tails. When did my robust 'can do' attitude toward living begin to recede. When did I get so old. What has really changed perhaps only the clarity with which I percieve. Where my dreams just the naivite of adolescence? I requires a lifetime to carve out a proper place. My end point is Christ the Rock of my salvation but I have yet to find my thrust my proweness I am but an other. Did I get a reality check suddenly learning the true limits of my ability. Is my mediocrity boundless; my tranfigurment disfiguring? When I was young starting out everything seemed possible; life was still giving; still making room for me to make my mark. Now it seems that loss is more likely; expected even. My ordinary life has become representative of a gross neglect or complete incompetance. Sadly I am only half the woman I thought myself to be. I used to believe that I was an ego maniac with a serious inferiority complex and now I realize that I am simply inferior. I was deluded by my own concete.
To percieve the futility of ambition is growth. But is it a deranged maligancy or epiphany.
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