REAL MEN, THESE ARE MY HEROES
By Mikail Collins, Matrix Contributor






















There are men too gentle to live amongst wolves, who tearing and devouring the rabid flesh of society's disease, satiate their own humanness with pain of fellow men.

There are men too gentle to live amongst wolves, who with quiet fortitude plumb the unexplored depths of the temple of the soul, who pioneer, not trips to the moon or distant lands, but more dangerous quests to yet undiscovered sands. There are men who in their knowledge, gentility and wisdom, are courageous enough to abdicate the dividing throne of power to immerse themselves in the tears of those who feel. These are my heroes.

There are men too gentle to live amongst wolves, who have been joyfully willing to make the excruciating journey to barren lands where nothing grows and there to plant a seed, and a marker for all mankind. These are my heroes. There are men who in their strength have broken the constricting bonds of time eternal, who see the children clutching fearfully to their mothers' breast, and on bended knees give thanks for life alone. These are my heroes.

There are men who trade, not in merchandise and marketing strategies; sunsets; seagulls and sincerity intersperse the interfaces of their illuminating software. You probably know their kind. These are my heroes. There are men too gentle to live amongst wolves who will never die, in the minds of the feeble, who in their moments of vulnerability subconsciously bludgeoned into pulp by sleeping hands, arise to the inspiration of a real man. These are my heroes.

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