The flight.

I can see myself today. In the mirror. When I look down at my arms and feet. I see what is there. I see what I let myself be (taking appropriate responsiblity).

It is pulling oneself out of that mess of a dilemma, admitting my faults and accepting (loveing--the word that stings); it is the difficult end. And I have to end in order to begin again.

And it is all very scary. All very sudden. All so easy to become a wash in the world I occupy. But transcention, evolving and becoming is ending, finishing and beginning someone new. and this is my creation. A new project.

Something instead of nothing. The flight. Ascension from the murk. My daily struggle. Weighty, surpurfluous.