December 24th, 2014

A hero can be a migratory cheer of the heart just before being shot down in flight by second thoughts, a hero one day a dead duck the next… 

Though surrounded by an internal landscape of devastation, insulation from the pain of lost dreams, a battered though unbeaten fighter will hold on to a pin prick of hope.  In that gray Limbo, a spark of hope is the only light to read by.  

Inside most cynics is a failed idealist just waiting to rise from the ashes, reborn. 

Cynicism is a self-devouring cage, a prison cell that creates nothing but self-doubt, which has no horizons only self-imposed limitations, a flat and scorched earth.  Idealism newly born as gossamer concrete, fragile and tenuous, can grow through strength of character, can morph into foundations of hope, and change, and invention, and salvation: idealism can be a dogged, taciturn, and adventurous pursuit of life -- human being by human being -- building a future where there was none.

Whatever don’t kill ya only makes you stronger -- horse shit! -- it can also leave you crazy or married.



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