Life is
inevitable. One way or the other, for good or for not-so-good, it relentlessly
proceeds; and Time is a strange phenomenon: it may either fly away or crawl,
but it never stops. Not until the end.
My journey has
lasted twenty-four years, and now that I think of it, that’s quite a large part
of the whole. Twenty-four years, spent, not knowing where I am headed. At
various times in this journey, I have become vaguely aware of the value of
various concepts. For example, it took me twenty-one years before I realized
that people are important. And it’s only been a couple years since I started
understanding the value of dreams. Religion and spirituality, idealism and
practicality, passion and greed, love – and disappointment… I’ve known them
all. I’ve won and I’ve lost, I’ve failed and I’ve succeeded. And yet, I know
that I’ve done none of these things. I know that if I open my eyes to look, I
shall find the canvas of my life still vacant, still new. And I know that I
must fill it.
And so, the
journey begins again. Once again I lift my head and I look forward. More than
anything else in Life, I seek meaning. I’m not a solitary pilgrim, and I’m not
a preposterous guru. I’m simply a young man, strong and hopeful, in search of a
dream, and hoping that you and I can walk together awhile – till our roads
diverge.
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