I sat down, in my den, to reflect on life: on the crosses we all must bear; on the burdens we carry to our Golgothas. I thought of life pursuits - the desire for glory, and fame.

I thought of rich men endowed with all but satisfaction; of kings and nobles with immense powers but lacking in health. I thought of young men and women with no vision of tomorrow; of dreams dashed and hopes crashed.

I thought of the lucky few - those who get to make something out of their lives. I saw the struggling masses, to eke a life out of scorched earth they seek: everyday a struggle, every hour a challenge. I saw hopelessness and anguish and extreme poverty; of politicians unconcerned; of denudating and debilitating impoverishment the sight of which is injurious to the soul. I saw despair, and resignation to the forces of life as they pummeled dreams into submission, and men became defined and imprisoned by their environment; I saw those who refused to go on, just because the sap is gone. The gut is sapped. (Sometimes the effort needed to start to succeed is so much that we're discouraged, and conclude that the pain is not worth the gain). To give up before the start of the journey is to disembark before we embark.