If the best havings are wantings, I'm miserably rife with the desire to sing sing sing, only my voice isn't strong enough on its own. Talk about an inevitable departure from independence. Lessons, lessons, everywhere. The tension here is like the water rocket at full pump or the rocks that cry out. "I am weary of keeping it in!"
Indeed, I cannot. I like to think I haven't been given this wanting simply for the want of having it.
So this is desire, patience. My chest could burst or shrivel from this. Time will tell. Please, God --
Still, I guess that one little bird in its big open meadow is just as loud and clear as any. If you've made me to sing, I'll sing.
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