As I walked out the door toward the gate that would lead to my freedom, I know if I didn't leave my bitterness and hatred behind, I would still be in prison.
We are made of time. We are its feet and its voice. The feet of time walk in our shoes. Sooner or later, we all know, the winds of time will close the tracks. Passage of nothing, steps of no one. The voice of time tells of the voyage.
