Now that I am in the 28th year of my life, my soul is still not as holy as it should be. I feel no advancement in flesh and soul, but a stagnation. Perhaps I am being too harsh on myself, too critical because I expect more, yet I have failed miserably. In all this, I am still full of zeal to advance, to accomplish my dreams, to forget past mistakes, to move ahead and glorify God before I breathe my last.
I have forgotten to write. I have left off the commentaries, the poems, the fiction, the miscellanies, the encouragements. For a while, I lost all faith in my talent even though it was only one talent, yet a talent nevertheless. And the master that I serve expects me to put this to good use and not shelve it. O poor me, but do not pity me, I have been hidden from the light, I have been in the darkness although not entirely.
I have aims and objectives to accomplish this year, and each is beyond my means that they must be accomplished by faith. I have to take risks because, without the taken of risks, no man ever accomplished anything. I must be willing to face loss in whatever shape she kisses me. I must embrace her but not let failure defeat me or bury me in the grave of hopelessness.
True, in this life we live but a little and die too soon. We die unexpectedly or die with regrets. Let my last gaze at the sun be full of cheer on the dawn of my departure. Let me welcome eternity with a bright smile. Let me love this old earth with joy inexpressible spreading the fragrance of Christ to every soul. Let me love well and sleep well in the peace of Christ. Let me write well; dear Lord, let me serve well!