The Fighter Still Remains

Somedays I don't know where it comes from; I find myself fighting without knowing why. There is some secret inner strength that has taken over, and even though I feel down, it won't let me sit there. It actually feels pretty good; knowing that instead of giving up my soul has chosen to fight on through. I want to think of myself as Muhammad Ali, and life, like Forman, is punching the crap out of me on the ropes. But I can feel him tiring out, and I am summoning the strenght I have left to start fighting back. For a person as committed to non-violence as I am, I have a strange draw to old school boxing, not so much this overhyped violent spectacle that is today's sport, but the old honor and courage, the metaphor of the fighter.

Anyway. Here I am, I have a couple of important things to do in the next few weeks, an exam, and a presentation, and then on home. I am really looking forward to home. Familiar surroundings, a house, family, friends, my country, my car, myself. I am really looking forward to being around American accents, its strange what you miss, and I miss the accent.

Well folks I should probably call it a night. And I will wake up tomorrow they way I do everyday,

a stronger man

only able to do my best

and never giving up.

Service to others is the rent you pay for your room here on earth.
-Muhammad Ali-