But there are too many places
I've no desire to go. It's the mind's fancy. I'll stay my ground as there's already too much going on here.

What green pastures? Who said so? Had they been there? Do they really know?

It's the personal angst and chagrin that does at the heart gnaw. The pent-up self-disappointment and frustration that seeks release for here all is barren ground where no flowers or plants ever grow.

Blame life, blame someone, blame society, blame the environment that lets you down. You've been a failure but let no one know.

I've only started and I'll test myself here. There are too many places I've no desire to go. If here I were to fail, let it be so. A seed takes time before it becomes a flower--overnight it's too early to grow.