So much of adolescence is an ill-defined dying, An intolerable waiting, A longing for another place and time, Another condition.

Should we say the self, once perceived, becomes the soul?

Over every mountain there is a path, although it may not be seen from the valley.

I came to love, I came into my own.

I learn by going where I have to go.

Deep in their roots, all flowers keep the light.

What falls away is always. And is near.