Life is sublimely imperfect, characteristically flawed by the nature of it’s own composition. It is not in the perfection of our traits that our true strength is shown but rather in the malfeasance of our own delusions, for it is the dreamers who see the obstacles as idols that must be sought after and the resolute who stand by traditions without thought of the potential. Dreamers are the only ones who look even beyond the capabilities of man to the need for something outside the realms of achievement.

The strong prevail while the diluted pursue. The wise build up strongholds while the seeker pushes away from the mundane constitutions of civilization in hopes of uncovering a dream that is worth such a vast cost.

The powerful uphold the world while the unsettled seek for the unattainable next step that will propel humanity beyond its own limits and into the dreams they cast aside as foolish.

Will you not dream then, of flight and exploration? Will your heart not seek to forget its cold, calculated and callused existence and seek the bitter tear of the unknown?

Dreamers awake from your darkened slumber to find yourselves capable. Forsake the warmth of familiarity and comfort. Find the strength that has thrust us through the centuries and find now the perversions that you so long held as rubbish to be the backbone by which greatness stands.

Trust the wisdom that has been passed down from the last. Let that be the foundation that your sustain yourself on. Yet settle not. Let not the slow transgressions of comfort rule your composition. Be born in the fire of curiosity and bathed in the flames of discontent. Be strong and resolute but tireless and unquenchable.

For in this manor may all things be brought to their own end. Not through the slow decay of time but in the vast appreciation for the unforeseeable mechanics of humanity. Meet yourself on the field of battle and be not afraid of the end. It will come as the slow and steady march of the season with little thought to what aids another.

Yet do not forsake wisdom for such is the course of fools. That which has traversed the passages of time and stood unyielding against the barrage of the ages will yet serve another well. For by its path is certainty guaranteed. For what is man without breath but homage to the dust from which he came?

We are all passengers on this boat at sea and foul weather seeks to find us out. So set yourself against the storm of resistance, feet planted firmly on the planks of wisdom with a stiff lean into the winds of change that when time is found an end you might be one who has achieved beyond their portion.

Consider me not as one of the fools.