I am slaying dragons one day at a time.
These are the outside voices: the waxing, endless prattle of the gestating carnival, the quack cure captains that will stuff you with sugar pills and then sell you out, the dream dopers, the lords of the lounge chair. When I shut the voices out and the calamitous, cacophonous crescendo of the collective consciousness subsides and the hiss of the wyvern recoils to a far-off, throbbing thrum …
… then I can hear again.
I hear the still, small voice that tells me who I am. I remember my first love, who is waiting breathless for my homecoming. I awaken to gratitude and humility. I see dreams and visions of a destiny of Justice whose wrath is provoked. A roving giant, he walks the earth with a scale in one hand and a sword in the other. He lays to waste corruption and all its taints and tastes.
I know what to do. I have to take sides. There is no middle ground here. We are battling for truth and for life. I know that we are at war, because every day there is a new dragon to slay. Whatever good that I can bring to the people around me is under attack. Where is courage? Although my heart is full of fear, I move in boldly to strike each dragon as it comes again and again, day by day. I hold my death in contempt and I respect no evil.
The dragons try to stop me from living. They, along with the rest, want me back in the factory; faceless, voiceless, and without bones, blood, or fire. But I have to speak. You have to speak. Let your light shine before men.
Get up and slay your dragons. Resistance, opposition, the enemy. Let the bastards know who is in charge! Let each day find the fighter in you. Put on your armor. Gird your loins. Draw your sword. Find your voice. Do what you are born to do.
To arms, friends! To arms!