Do I believe in superheroes? No, the older I have gotten, the more I have fallen in love with the idea that not the extraordinary or the supernatural has merely been imbued with human characteristics, rather the idea that within humanity lies the greatness. My heroes have always been real people.
Perhaps it is fitting that the best of our kind are so plagued with sadness, having seen so much of it themselves, the desire to inflict the same in those around them never truly takes root.
He who in this life realizes to love is to surrender, will not witness his heart tamed by feebleness.
The beautiful among us do not have it wasted upon their faces, to be fed upon by lustful eyes, to be faded by the ravaged of time and age. They impart theirs differently,weaving it within their words and actions to enrich minds and hearts,to which time the great destroyer of feebleness, is compelled to aid its greatness through memory.
We all know those wandering souls, those strange people that seeming appear from nowhere at the door step of our existence. They enter into our lives as a guest would ones home, they stay for a time yet unselfishly they do not a make a home of it yet care for it all the same. Like all guests they too must leave, going as they came without any expectation. Yet what remains is the impression they make on you, how they change you.Even in their taking leave they manage to give. It is only then their beauty is truly understood.
People often hear the phrase home is where the heart is, yet people often forget the heart is not so much unlike a home. A home can have many guests who occupy it for a time, like all guests they must eventually take their leave. Yet the one who stays the owner, didn’t do so by theft, for one cannot lift and steal a home nor they can steal a heart as people are apt to say; no they are simply came back to what always to belonged to them, they simply came home. In occupying a heart as a home, they bring warmth and light where once darkness and coldness existed in emptiness.
Truth of it is that we don’t lose our loved ones when they do take their leave from us. Love if it is real, is never about possession and one cannot lose what is not owned, rather it is we have lost a part of ourselves to them.
Love will make men of beasts, lust however will most certainly make beasts of men.
Houses I find are commonly haunted by the memory of the dead, men however are more often than not haunted by the memory of the living.
Most people speak of the awesome power of love, yet most also know it in limited amounts. Most in their lifetimes eventually to love another, learning to speak to another’s soul perhaps move it. And yet every now and them have come men and women, that learn to not simply love another, but all others as well. In possessing that uncommon love for humanity, they do not speak to nor move just the soul of another, no rather they come to speak and come to shift the very souls of peoples, nations and societies.