From the home, he travels to the meadows, mountains, forests, rivers; searching for his treasure that home once taught him to realize; a hero in the making. There he fights his battles, side-by-side with the Providence through his heart. He is born to battle. He is a hero.
He thinks about many things in the journey: love, women, sex, entertainment, prayer, and survival with all his heroic prudence. He thinks about anything under the great sun.
Once, he thought about happiness, thought about the love he left, women loved, curiosities passed, friends met, prayers doubted and graced, and how he survived for the time that he has been journeying. He asked and even doubted if he has become, and is happy being a hero. He despairs for a moment, and then again thought about his being.
I am a hero, I fight my own battles. I am a hero, winning means struggling. I am a hero, I didn’t choose to be one, but I was made one by Providence. Am I happy? Not quite, but the extremities of both sides of happiness and despair puts me in the middle and learns the virtue in between. I am happy yet loaded with all the problems imaginary and real that the journey offers a hero: am at ease and still searches for my Providence from whom I could ask for my treasure and thank for making me His hero.He goes home after a long battle and celebrates his struggles. Either win or lose, he homes back and rest for a while. Gains strength and readies himself for another journey.
You are the hero of yourself.
You are the hero of the Providence.
This composition is offered to a discouraged companion very dear to my heart.