
This is just a little poem I wrote yesterday about how practicing has been going for me for the moment. Let's see who can guess what emotion that is?
Self-Imposed
I don't know if I can continue on my path,
which before seemed so clear, pristine and perfect, but
once embarked upon
is long, treacherous and full of
hoplessness.
Do I have it in me to continue,
to overcome, triumph and reach
my destination?
I think I do,
but
I'm lost in a sea of desperation,
exhaustion and frustration.
Is this self-imposed hell
worth my passion?
any words of encouragement?
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More entries: January 2009
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