I have failed,
\nbut it is my way to fail.
\nTo put wings on backward.
\nMisspell words.
\nGet lost on roads.
\nDisappoint teachers.
\nBungle recipes.
\nSmall failures.
\nLike dripping faucets
\nannoying but functional.<\/p>\n
The failure I speak of
\nis none of that.
\nIt is a quality with no place
\nI know.
\nThat longs to be created.
\nA dream not dreamed yet.
\nA faith not found.
\nA country I must find
\nif I am ever to be happy and complete.<\/p>\n
Where things exist because
\nthey must exist,
\nfor being beautiful,
\nfor being true.
\nWhere nakedness is cloth
\nworn by the real.
\nWhere there is no addition
\nor subtraction,
\nbut only centers.<\/p>\n
Where a face is beautiful
\nbecause it belongs to itself.
\nWhere birth is ultimate goodness.
\nAnd being there
\nin that country,
\neverything is seacoast,
\nevery life lives its dream,
\nand there is nothing
\nthat loses itself or regrets itself,
\nand diaries are composed of poetry<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
I have failed, but it is my way to fail. To put wings on backward. Misspell words. Get lost on roads. Disappoint teachers. Bungle recipes.…<\/p>\n