I am a failure and a fraud, I have yet to live up to my imagination, to be the courageous child that can laugh at god and play with the devil, I have spent more time doing less when I should have been doing more, I can smell the autumn winds and see the darkening grey skies of what little years I have before me, so quickly it has gone, the minutes and hours and days and months and years and moments, small flashes of inspiration crushed under waves of the indifference of tomorrow's, love has always been there but not always tended to, lost and found, burned to ash and risen to flame, cowardly ignored and foolishly rushed into and still it is there always in reach of being out of reach, I am not particular good at any one thing, I have not studied as I should have, I have not been practiced or well disciplined, yet I pretend and continue to lie, with pencils and lines and pens and words and clays and shapes, I have no idea what I am doing yet I find I do it anyway, sometimes at least, not as often as needed though,  my future sits on my desk and in my sketch pads and it is right there in front of me and yet somehow I manage to ignore it and just go through the motions of living, hoping for what... I don't know... I do not fear death but I do hope that she is far enough away that I will figure out how to live with failure and how to be a good fraud and how to use my imagination to the best of its abilities and mostly how to be a courageous child