Today I am tirelessly doing my very best to prepare what could be one of the things I should have done a long long time ago. For days and nights I have scrawled on countless papers, tasted pencil leads and chewed on erasers. I didnt mind not getting enough sleep. I didn't mind the scorching heat as I travel along unshaded paths to carry the message.

To what do I owe this futility? To whom do I offer this oppurtunity? Will I still be around when it has grown majestically?