The frustration lies in a betrayal of expectation, sudden frost so algid it stuns the seasonal bloom. Should growth allay its spirit by waiting for the opportunity ripe? Hardly, a choice to make; the light shines anew, the wind blows, life goes. The temptation to float along, idle and addle-brained, adrift and nonchalant is strong. The skill, strength, endurance becomes an aegis against blustery winds; the meat savors more if the chef marinates. To cleanse meat of its fatty excess, carve away adipose deposits, differs not from diligence in activity, like writing thoughts daily, poring text avariciously, speaking honestly about desires. Perfection is not an ideal or abstract, she is persistence, ever engaged.
From @thatkidsblack