People always said I was far to much of loner to ever lead anything perhaps, But I am a firm believer that you judge a man by the company he keeps, in that regard I prefer the company of books and ideas and the enlightened men behind them.

Every man who takes the breathe of life, has conflict written for him. A boy makes his conflict about power and the school yard his battlefield he will be a bully, yet mere meters away another man makes war against ignorance and the classroom his front line, he emerges the teacher. It is the great separator of men, not race, nor class but what he fights for and where he stages it.

It is liars that tend to be the loudest, for their words must reach the back of rooms. Honest men in my experience by nature are quiet, for their words need not concern itself with the size of venues, the power of their words of an honest man come not from the volume of which they are spoken but from truth.Where falsehoods are limited by acoustics, the truth however, can be heard across centuries even as whispers.

Take a hurricane, a storm that stretches hundreds of miles wreaking destruction its path, Yet in the center lies the eye, a region of uncharacteristic calm unaffected by the havoc that surrounds it. Peculiar how nature allows such a contradiction, yet many a man does not, how they suffer in not allowing themselves to find a measure of peace despite the engulfing difficulties.

I have known no two words more dangerous together than “What if?”. How something so simple, so feeble a question will destroy a man, in attempting to answer what may prove unanswerable it will enslave him to the past. Those invisible chain will confine him while time in its slow unstoppable march carries the world forward. Left behind, alone chained he wastes away in that prison of his own making.

They speak of a god who created a man in his image, I cannot speak of the veracity of that statement. However man since his appearance shapes and continues to shape the world in his own likeness, it reflective of both the cruelties and gentilities so inflict his character. Man the sculptor and the earth his sculpture.

The religious tomes speak of a god creating man in his own image. I cannot speak of the veracity of that for its matter of faith and not facts. However what I do know is that man and his kind has and continues to, shape this world in his own reflecting both the great cruelties and compassion that resides within him.

Such is the inescapable nature of truth, it is like traveling in a circle, in running from away from it one is also simultaneously running towards it once again. The nature of the journey never changes, just the man making it.

Men have always died. In dying they take nothing, so it was a man gives, what he leaves behind that defines him, each man building upon his predecessors legacy. Long forgotten ancestors left us an identity, a name. In taking a name Forefathers pass on lands and property.the men of this era are no different. In being given wealth and lands they ought to aspire and build, leave behind a world, a better one.

if man upon his death takes nothing with him, then perhaps his purpose in this life is not to take, rather his time in this world is defined by what he gives to it.