My report, I did my best and still fell short. Reaching down to pick up my flag I slapped on my thigh. Counting the dandelions and clovers I hung my head and waited for the sigh.

Never will amount to the bundle of expectations written in the unfulfilled and unpleasant moments of lives with which in some manner I had psychological attachment.

Should my sadness at not having the power of the Savior be enough to chase me from repetition. The calculus just doesn’t produce worthy sum. Always leads to disaster.

How many times may a young man come up shy of super human to remove the curse of trying to be or become something that was never real. What is the quest to be that person?

The failed experiment ought not run one moment of based thinking. Yet, for so many years I and so many others apply all that they’ve got to forestall something outside of reason.

They call claiming they wanted to help me, when my gut immediately determines that they are in trouble that they perceive I may rid them in the false claim of purposeful singularity.

In seniority I have made the decision to sacrifice my own heart for the reasons that God sent me. This has never been about a realization of my own dreams but His Will that they follow.

Tending the flock or field never determines the outcome. Seeding, weeding, feeding and even pruning simply maintain the soul effects of God upon the fruit and or the bounty.

If I rejoice it is neither in absence of success or fear of failure. I rejoice in the election, the appointment as gardener, shepherd or husbandman, a perfect helper for the King.