For almost two years now, i've been pushing a brick wall. I've
managed to push it inches here and there, but sometimes I slip, and it
falls back into it's original place. I can barely see around it now; I
used to be able to see miles beyond it's border, but with time and
tireless effort, it somehow has grown larger, and now I sometimes find
myself drowned it's cavernous shadow. I know I could easily walk in a
different direction and be done with this monumental task, but somehow,
I never find myself giving up. Once or twice I've made stern decisions
to leave the wall, for at times the wall has been my undoing, but I
always seem to reappear in front of this wall, pounding my sweat into
it's griseled edges.
The wall came at bad time for me, an
unlucky unevent and at an unfortunate time. But I chose to meet the
wall with what was left of me, and so I live by that decision. I don't
regret finding this wall, for I have learned much from it's
stubborness, but I do wish I could find the key to unlock it's door.
And so life goes on, me with this wall, and this wall with me. |
