I have arrived to a point in where my wounds have their wounds, my blows have their blows and my scratches have their scratches.
Even my plagues in the form of friends and families have departed from me but no before marking.
But nothing, I have real faith because of searching and contention because of wanting to overcome and become better or taller as also in a better or taller place.
And I know that I will overcome. There is for me no march back because back there is nothing more and what never was and what never will be.
With me there is only one. He has hungered with me in silence. As the same as me he has also spend nights without sleep and because of lack of even a place to rest my feet and my head.
But when the spoils arrive, the spoils so much will be for him as so much will be for me because the spoils will be one, oneself as also the spoils will be himself because of everyone doing for the spoils oneself.
Now then, without contention or without friction or even without desolation thus there will never ever be overcoming or transformation or there will never ever be a higher place and much less a spoil which will be one oneself.