It was difficult to say where the lines met between the ending of one chapter and the beginning of the next. I found myself on the precipice of something that had only just begun to unfold, like the first breath of a fresh spring breeze with a note of curiosity in the air of things to come. It was official, I had defected from everything that was once familiar, and from a society to which I once put forward my best of faith, but failed me now. The only road towards my own authentic truth led straight ahead into the darkest of wood, but it glimmered ever so mystically with hope.
Meadow Lark 