An ode to the iniquitous nature of blackberry brambles.

The last year or so and my time is not my own. Yet this is untrue, for the responsibilities I created for myself were always in the name of a distant desire. And this does approach presently.

Still I don't know what to do. I've worked so hard to be where I am now and yet I am here alone. I thought this was what I wanted. No, it is what I want, only it is more difficult than I could see.

Clearly spoken, I'm finally going to the school of my wish. I've worked and gone to school, duelly full-time, and my sacrifice of sleep, and friends, and time, and sometimes hope has found me here on the brink, accepted finally and grazing on the freedom of my own decisions.

Yet this is the next road of my life, and one that walks me away from the former where thereupon still float the most beloved of faces. Seeing them for the rest of my life has never been a question to me.

Thus far I'm too tired to consider the bartering of time spent or the necessity of patience. Here it's easier to dwell in the ambivalence that is the reward of experience.

Faretheewell folk,
-Talthea (9/6/05)

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