Stained glass.

Paralyzed by over-thought, I sit in the cold of winter's air. Encumbered by the weight of different projects and ideas, I've slowly grown immobile. The only way out from under it all is to cease being precious about creations, and let them live or die on their own merit. And though I'm worried that some will fail, all I can do is create with honesty, for conviction creates voice, and present the world with what I view as truth.