Awaking from a long sleep is no easy task.
Coming back from the dead has been no easy task.
And so, I find myself waiting for a judgement on what I have submitted - my first piece of writing.
The terrible irony is that, as soon as I submitted it, I made the fatal mistake of reading it.... and fnding the errors that now shine out at me like newly polished silver chains.
Too late to alter it, I cant take it back and amend it - and if I could, where would the mending end? Never; the mending, the fixing, it would never be done.
So I must leave it now, and accept that this was 'me', 'then'. Not now, and never tomorrow when I may finally find a word, or a phrase that is better than the ones I've put to use.
The journey is all.
And I always thought that was so cliche.
But it's impossible to await a 'mark' for a lonely and often terrible, but ultimately hopeful process of self enquiry; befitting an examined life. Clothes do not maketh a woman - Grace maketh a woman.
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