“Blood marks stain the steps that lead to thrones. Scars are the price of scepters. Our crowns will be wrested from the giants we conquer. Grief has always been the lot of greatness.” —Streams in the Desert
Not by might, not by power, but by the Spirit within you does your greatest achievements call—a distance and frequency muffled by the rumbling of the restless rank and file. Followers of the shiny, sharp foil too heavy for them bear. It slices through commonplace to carve out its kingdom amid the congestion of the conventional. Ambitions in a dangerous consort of daring pursuit and endless opposition. How compromised are the minds that strike out in frightened disapproval, as if to disarm fire, ignoring its tempest fingertips that melt iron and burn paths to a mysterious, marvelous place.
And in that Spirit of discovery—of leadership—has reconciled the price of the dare. How much blood will be spilled advancing into scrutiny to capture the vision and give it life. Wade through self-doubt to waist, chest, chin… treading, challenging human strength in the silt that bogs down your present course. Are you ready to rise? To sacrifice normal, future, face? Can you hit that unreasonable stride that commands courage and conducts the liquid boiling deep inside throughout every limb?
Dare to be peculiar, though it may startle others. Dream, desire, feel that extraordinary adrenaline that wakes you at daybreak with a plan. Those of limited sight tend to miss the signs—those translucent, shimmering reflections that blind. Still, carry on never to compromise. Be eccentric, of unusual climate and terrain. And if need be, offend. Never let your pitch be shunned. Never allow your judge to condemn. Find your mood, your milieu, and proceed.
Dare to lead. And dare to bleed.
Bleeding In Black and White 