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Doesn’t matter where you’re from - it’s where you end up that counts.
Competing with yesterday’s self, a goal not an object to measure against.
Your past is not your fault, but it is your responsibility.
Take it, understand it, own it and wear it.
Like a cloak against discontentment - stagnation - limitation.
Heaven or hell?
They’re a tomorrow that starts today.
In your head - in your bed - on the way to the job you hate.
But the rock is only heavy, if you have to pick it up.
Hate becomes love becomes hate - like a flag in the breeze, creased with ease.
But don’t show me the sketch, if you’re working on a painting.
Like chess in the evening, no sounds for the moves, until the check-mating.
Grow silently, like the oak.
Applauded for its size, not its seed.
But grow indeed, no matter how slow.
Through the forks in the road, never going backing, exponentially untold.