This life of mine. . .

I feel like this life of mine. This life is not mine anymore. I'm just here directing the path of a human spirit hell bent on influencing whomever he comes into contact with. And though that may make some of you feel sad, it doesn't make me feel that way.

The path of sacrifice is for whoever can see their way to the starting line. Its an indellibe and ineffable experience. I mean its not easy explaining to people that you're always tired, because as the world turns, so does the sphere of human need. Invariably, success comes from sacrifice. All want success. Not all want to sacrifice. That's where I believe this human spirit is directing me.

And though my instincts tell me that life at this pace, will surely lead to a quicker death, I don't mind. That makes me work harder at leaving pieces of myself behind. To ensure my passage, not necessarily my path is passed on to anyone who could use a good story. Or maleficent adjustment to their life's décor. We all have to clean the house every now and again.