Okay, so even I am getting tired of my own whining. Huge ego hidden within a cloak of deprecatory rhetoric. Too easily led by encouragement to go off the deep end and believe more than what is there. Creativity used blasphemously to swell one’s head to poppable proportions. I am not the sea nor river, but a spot of leftover rain on the driveway, and must learn to use my spot as best I can.
Tempting to delete all previous posting—who else is up at this ungodly hour? But no, I’ll leave it as a reminder to myself and use it as a public stock because embarrassment is a good teacher.
I’ll sleep now, and spend the night dreams in a spiral down to earth. And pray the Lord my soul to keep, and let me wake up me or someone better.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology