When an individual has tried all they could, for years, and does not “arrive,” it takes a toll. Faith is diminished; strength is fleeting; all friends, family are gone. There is nothing left.

Legs are numb; arms are sore; head is whirling because the individual is worn. The dream has died, only mourning remains, save the still, small voice beckoning, “Go on.”

It implores the individual to make it. It begs you to succeed. It promises you victory. But after all this time, effort, and money, you simply reply: “When?”

Eric Christopher Jackson


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