To Heroes

To all of you who want to be that hero. He lives inside us all. Through the illuminating catalyst of true perception that is reading we discover the wisdom we need for relating to and collaborating with our fellow travelers as we each blaze our own path towards our, often changing, life goals.

Hero

 How dreadful,
Becoming a static character.

 The circle, beginning and end,
He reads, the tree stretching forth
From budding seeds and light,
What will be his tree?

 Parts of him were built to give,
Parts he never thought he’d need are
Hardened, dreams are put to bed
For wisdom in their time to leave.

 Who we are is constant change,
Consistent only face and name.
When our progress stalls
We always hear a calling:

 Who are we?
Why do we have time and life?
Who will we come to be?
Is it even worth a try?

 He knows the ones who deny,
Their closed eyes, decidedly blind.
He knows a desire to just get by,
But wonders how they live that lie.

 He wonders if he’ll ever find
An end to cyclic catching breath
And falling back into the fray,
Or if that end is death.

 Even then persists his terror,
For worse to him than suffocating is
Wasting all his power, aware
Of the part he still has yet to play.

 How dreadful,
Becoming a static character.

 Our hero would never accept that fate.

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