As I sit here mourning for a moment the Knights of the realm, Hillary, Blake and their kin. A mad max movie reel runs in my head to the strains of Tina Turner wailing "we don't need another hero .. ".
In this burning vision of our desperate futures. Where have all great ones gone, why have none come to replace them?
Do we dance in the ashes of thousand fires? Do we call the sparks of the dying flames diamonds in a sky of lucid dreams? Reports from the front line read like messages from another reality where the world has gone mad, barking at a blood red moon. The world outside my window rushes past, unstoppable, cold, callous, hollow eyes fixated on carrots and sticks.
But our heroes do show us the way, they show us that the future belongs to those that grab it and make it their own. Hillary and Blake the same, stood on the edge of reason, at the boarders of the earth facing the greatest challenges they could imagine and conquered them one small step at a time.
So I dance to the dreams of their future.
