I require a prize to move through my days without sadness and despair.
My mind is still a boyish thing that sees the whole of life
in every glance at the horizon. I can see whatever I wish
and believe in it for awhile, too. But, too often,
the place disintegrates as I approach;
the details become too much work to resolve,
the effort too great to achieve. And thus I am ever held
at arm’s length from the life I could create.
Held by my own fears and resistance to herculean effort.
My boyish mind is supple and fierce,
unafraid to soar past obstacles which would damn
a rational mature creator. Easy to freely aspire to
such notions when there is no consideration of
the true hardships that such an endeavor
would necessitate. No experience with getting past
the hard parts to temper my future possibilities.
Ignorance allows for a highly imaginative approach
to what’s next. Yet the rate of failure is
telling and conclusive: one hundred percent success
at failure is a stone in my heart.
The boy brain has effectively condemned
the road ahead. The boy must yield
if the man is to ever arrive
anywhere in this life.
~ yombo
