'perennial with the earth.' there is a dream of america. one that lives on in the hearts of its daughters and sons. despite being brought low from within, these true blue few toil still toward that ideal which has been envisioned but not yet attained. there is no disgrace in picking oneself up after being made mockery of, and striving once more for greatness. no shame in admitting your ingloriousness and seeking glory still. it is honorable to identify and excise ones flaws and then to continue up the craggy path to righteousness . made known to ourselves, we are able to overcome ourselves. we are a bridge, not an end. and so is reality, infinite
