Big dreams born in small paces.

Your beginning may not have been glorious.

Your beginning may have seemed small, but you had a dream.

The dream was big and unachievable as dreams ought to be.

And you lived your life, and dreamed, and worked, and wondered off the path, and found your way back.

You fell on your face more times than you can count. At some point failure was your only expression of consistency. But you dreamed on, your pressed on and persevered through narrow places, through cramped places, through dark places.

Then one day you gathered the fruit of your labor, and everyone applauded you, and pet you on the shoulder, and only knew the last two meters of your journey. To them it seemed like good luck and good work. But they knew nothing, and you were not going to explain. Because you could not. Because one needed to be in those dark places with you to understand, how the last two meters did not make you.