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.

Great men often are like great trees, in reaching for the sky they climb ever higher, paying no heed to the comforting shade they provide below.

The Humble often stand head and shoulders above others because by their very nature they are people who are afraid of heights. Looking only towards the heavens, they attain them, never having glanced down to see how high they have risen from the dark pit of pride.

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.

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Politics is like a child and humanity its parent. When it is shown far too little attention and far too much neglect, like a child its nature can only grow more wild and reckless till its a becomes a threat to itself and its creator.

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.

Man is like a tree spends its whole existence reaching for a sky it cannot meet,becoming thicker and stronger and taller in its attempt, yet no matter the effort and time it always remain rooted to the ground of its birth, for whether it is soil or ones past one cannot completely escape it, but it does not stop them from growing from it.