Moments extend into days. Conversations with God extolling upon a doubt that seriously oppresses. Gentle replies urging patience and tolerance. A spell of quiet contemplation with a being by my side that truly understands what it is to soothe. Thank thee verily. Dirty knees that lead to a purged mind and cleansed spirit. The tolerance and patience being suggested amidst a subsiding squall that once blinded, becomes possible. The anxiety that will be exorcised and dissapear with the establishment of a new routine loses it's rigid nature. It's been an uphill march against the wind. The apocalyptic storm lashed out once or twice but has been succesfully staved off for the most part.

And now! The crest of the embattled hill is coming into view. I am left imagining the pristine, virgin valley on the other side. Shades of purple and sparkling streams glistening in the sunlight. Invisible, light air, uncommon in the heavily industrilized Communist cement block neighborhoods, is inhaled and savoured. Yes, the struggle is all but finished now, and it has not been in vain. Let us make right the path we have chosen, and not look back. What say you?

Don't look back. The past is always capable of stinging. The healing of wounds inflicted leaves a scar. The image of a scar is the proof of a healing, but also the evidence of damage done. I must forgive and be forgiven, as must we all.

I ache for the valley. If the victory wasn't at hand I believe I'd surrender. I'd forfeit this campaign and march home. A richer man to be sure, but unfulfilled. The valley. Give me the valley. Two more days and 1,200 miles, and then the enchanted descent into the promised land that no scouts have perused save but I. The image of collapsing and being smothered by a place so welcome after the harsh battlefield rolls over in my mind time and time again. Stock piles of milk and honey amidst amber waves of golden grain. Let it be that which my mind has conjured! Let it be while whispering words of subsistence.