She feels the grayness reaching toward her,
Feathering all around her like fog on a damp winter morn.
It beckons her, pulls at her, embraces her as if she were a love lost;
In secret it bleeds the light from her very center.
With a sigh of resignation, defeat, despair,
She turns a faint, pale cheek to the shadow from which she cannot escape.
"All men dream, but not equally. Those who dream by night in the dusty recesses of their minds awake to find that it was vanity. But dreamers of day are dangerous men, that they may act their dreams with open eyes to make it possible."
(T.E. Lawrence)
"You will travel through the valley of rejection, you will reside in the mourning mists, and you will find your way home, though it will not be where you left it." (The Starter Wife)
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