His courage
is the envy even of those who reside on Mount Olympus. His heart mightier than
any temple in Jerusalem. His struggle began early in his spiritedness oft-times
the fall hurt more than the ascent. Forced was he to hide under dead trees that
gave little shelter.
This, he
shouted to the heavens would never define him. He would rise above the corpse planted
in the garden of vexation, and turn his back on the misshaped cobble stones.
Keeping his moody eyes on the undimmed horizon, and earning his baron from his
tumbles. The world gave him thorns but he clutched tightly to the red rose.
Maturity
became his touch-tone while he blossomed into man far beyond all regard. His
talent with the pen drew assemblage to his side. The narrative of hear
surpassed all uncertainty and left his doubters in a drunken stupor. They, left
in his wake hoping for just the reflection of his deep candescent. His
compassion and his desire to please those dear to him is known beyond his
boarders. All, are made more lustrous in his warmth and joyfulness.
-Johnny V.
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