And for all the tears he had cried, all the pain he'd felt and all the discomfort he had gone through, he determined never to sway from his intended path.
Unlike every one else's bag of goals his was bright red, he knew it wasn't going to be an easy road but he was going to ply it anyways; dreams in one hand and goals strapped to his wrist he headed out in a world that favoured little of his kind.
On some days, he was invincible and thought great of his art and others days, oblivious of the fact that the world's need the craft of his hands that is Light in this grossly dark world, he hid it under a bushel. Like a fisherman tirelessly finds fish, he sought for that drive to keep him pushing; so he went on a sojourn of self-discovery and there it was, the reason for the well of creativity looming on his insides; it was the missing piece he saw in people's life that somehow only his broken piece could fix, so battered and broken he began to make everyone whole...
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