Don Quixote days

My cape is tattered.
My mind is weary
My world is small with overwhelming problems
My heart beats on as I cling to the resolve
My abilities require of me
My vision is clear but my influence is limited
My intelligence fails in the face of the crowd
Dominated by myopia instead of my utopia
My plan to go forward, despite these odds
In all these Don Quixote days
Is born afresh along with Sancho Panza’s
Mystical ideals.
Who will be my Sancho Panza?
<><><><><><><><><><><><><> 11/16/16

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