O, dear blog, forgive me, I have neglected you. Please know that it is not a reflection of my admiration of you, but rather it is a matter of fulfilling the things I have written in you for the last many years. What are the words I have given you if they have not been ordained for the future? I know as well as you that the things I have written have been my truest attempts to mirror my own true intents regardless of my own body’s lack of cooperation or progression. I have known what is right, but fulfilling the depths of what is right to the extents the mind, heart and soul can vision unto ones intelligence in the most trying times is as finding a pearl in the ocean when one has not yet learned how to swim.
O, dear blog, though at this moment in time my feet are bruised and my hands are stinging, my body has never been stronger or healthier, and though my heart still ponders upon its own death and its purpose in still existing in this coarse life, its beat has never been healthier, and as well, though my mind still strays to past occurrences and wrestles with the consequences, purposes and meanings of the very things it has concocted or been given, it has never been more active in wellness, and though it is still learning to coexist; all of my parts, and all of these realms of being, my soul is once again progressing toward freedom. What is it that my being is? I am my mind, I am my heart, and those two combined create my soul which is housed in this tabernacle of clay.
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