BLOGGERMACHA

for, sadly though, I fall into the category called
average men and women,

who are scared to aspire,
who dread the thought of being rejected,
of being framed as an outlaw,
pale at the idea of being non-conforming.

If only I had ‘enough guts’

for i am a drifter,
an aimless wanderer,
a rudderless boat,
a sculler who lost his oars
like a driftwood,
wait for the river to take me places,
never aware whether am washed ashore or still floating,
like an oyster in a desert
wait for that odd rain drop

In the battle of life, it is not the critic who counts; nor the one who points out how the strong person stumbled, or where the doer of a deed could have done better.

The credit belongs to the person who is actually in the arena; whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; who does actually strive to do deeds; who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotion, spends oneself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement; and who at worst, if he or she fails, at least fails while daring greatly.

Far better is it to dare mighty things, to win glorious triumphs even though checkered by failure, than to rank with those timid spirits who neither enjoy nor suffer much because they live in the gray twilight that knows neither victory nor defeat.

Teddy Roosevelt said so.
I say “sigh”.