The vigor in my soul won’t stand for this anymore. The potency that is my being is far from ruin, far from silenced and far from death. With severed legs I’d walk with intent to prosper — a body plagued with sickness and still I’d dare to dream. For I can breathe. My blood is fire and I bleed life. The defeatist is dead. No remorse for that man who dies — a sad bitter man whose contempt for himself exceeded his contempt for the world. No remorse for those who broke his spirit — a sad bitter lot whose lack of insight left a man broken, left many broken. The disenchanted led by the frightened, only blessed with the absence of respect. A world enslaved by itself, but one was reborn to conquer. I climb to the crest and strive to climb higher. At the core of my being is vitality that will not die. My blood is fire and I bleed life. My blood is fire.1
I remember not fully appreciating this song until talking with Matt Fox about it at a concert, when he called it the “song that ended his depression.”
And it is, indeed, the song that most speaks to that part of a human being that is opposed to all depression. It is one of the most eloquent encomiums of the feeling of the energy that pulses within us that I have ever read.
And reading it, I can only say: “if life must always crush those who cannot live, who are we to complain? If we do not like the gift of life, purchased at so high a price, we are always free to return it.”
- Shai Hulud : The Fall Of Every Man : When One Bests Defeat↩