The hour appointed creeps ever closer and I must tell you that this road to London has not been an easy one. Many events have transpired since I’ve last been on here. And many thoughts have come and gone while some thoughts seem to swirl like recurring themes that has always been with me; a sadness beyond description that has been woven into the fabric of my sole existence. The world continues to move at a rapid rate, swooshing about like wild currents filled with multitudes of underlying currents, and I am moving somewhere in between, thrown about, sometimes drowning, sometimes swimming, and sometimes just floating having no idea, and as ever much clueless as to where I will end up. But one thing is clear, this journey and adventure that I have embarked upon is God’s gift, so whatever that is in store for me, I will work towards being in a space to fully accept my own limitations, but also, to not accept not living with purpose.
Life has been an uphill battle and I see now that this hill has always been a climb towards Mount Olympus; where both men and women has risen and fallen through the actions of their own endeavors. Some are thrown so far that getting up seems hopeless, while others continue to rise knowing that each break or fall, they will only heal to be strengthened to the core absolute will of defying life’s failures and turning them into triumphant moments, bursting stones with each and every aching step forward towards victory.
I have also realized that Mt. Olympus is not the pinnacle peak of life, but only a gathering place of wise men and weary travelers determined to renew and strengthen each other. Humbled souls nourishing one another’s bodies and spirit, heart healers who knows how one broken can be. I welcome such a place and I look forward to reaching that clearing and bask in the presence of men and women who know they, too can be slain, lain, beaten, and defeated by the side of a road, invisible to mainstream eyes, but very much visible in the space that occupies them, how he or she also had dreams of grand possibilities but never came to fruition.
In a week’s time come June 23rd I shall make my ascent, taking with me those same hopes and dreams that saw death too early. I hope my words will be smiled upon. I hope my words will echo throughout every landscape of canyons and valleys, alleys, street corners and throughout every stone that yearns to burst with life. I shall tell my story but know that my story is not my own.
Til da Last Daisy dies.. Kosal Khiev