A life without a purpose, anger without a justifiable cause, hurt without anything precious to defend, weakness that masquerades as moral uprightness, no heroic struggle, a wisdom that is borrowed and repeated a thousand times, stolen yet aired with pomposity and self-righteousness, morals that have long become dull platitudes, lifeless and ineffectual, a culture that is paraded and took pride upon lost its glory in myths and vacuous and inane turpitude. Who is the hero among us? Where is valor and supreme integrity that is not fragmented by the myriad forces that rend the soul into a million pieces? A life of safety is sought by most men, a secure life that is not threatened by the change, by the increasing violence, by the swelling greed, by the wails of the weak and the tortures of the rich and the powerful. Where is the action in life that is not a knee-jerk reaction to circumstances, not a response of the frightened being, not an outcome of the cunning mind or the pompous generosity of the self serving individuals? Where is the travail of man rising above the inanities of living, above the humdrum life of the common, soaring in the realm of the sublime, defeating the inner forces that threaten to tear at the very soul? Where is that man who is not merely led by chance, by circumstance, by forces within and without, by habits, by thoughts and ideas of others, but runs under his own steam, makes his own principles, follows his heart and directs his mind, governs his urges and blazes a trail for the former to follow? Is there such a man amongst us? A man who is not afraid to be ordinary and yet does extraordinary things with great simplicity and with scorching passion?
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