Sunday 2/23/25
Five in the morning on a Sunday and crying on account of "Hero of Mine" after stepping back from it for a few days and returning to work on it. What a powerful work. Should be required reading for every human there is and might be. This is going in The Solution to the World's Problems: Surprising Tales of Relentless Joy.
Sometimes heroes feel like there’s no such thing as hope for them or that it’s a joke made by beings not of this world for their personal amusement in whatever world they inhabit.
Were it revealed that here are the results, this is how it all ends, there is no avoiding the outcome—so says God, so says the universe, so says the all-knowing beings we cannot fathom—heroes would still do what they were doing, whatever it took to keep doing it.
If no one saw them, and they didn’t receive any credit or attention, they’d behave the same as though the entire world sang their praises and they were rich and famous and regarded as a person everyone knew they should look up to and definitely be as nice to as possible.
And if they were the very last of their kind in a world which couldn’t recognize them if anyone in it wanted to, a hero still wouldn’t choose to stop or give up—to have it all be over.
If it was them against a gargantuan, monstrous force, without assistance, and only themselves to count on, the gargantuan, monstrous force would still have an opponent.
Whatever that force was couldn’t truly claim, “There is nothing but open space for us between here and there,” because that wouldn't be true.
What is that worth?
It’s worth all there is, which is why the hero gives everything they are and why a hero is hope itself. They are the beautiful proof that there is someone who always can—no matter what.
That gets me going, and I wrote it.
The value of a work of art is directly proportional to the amount of life it contains. Truer words were never said.
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