In response to a friend that asked what a good man is:
I have thought long on this, and deeply.
There is no good. We are all the heroes in our own stories.
To be truly good, we must have a stringent moral compass, which may be incompatible with our world.
We must stand for what we believe in, and that must survive by worth… Or largely, by accident.
We must be well thought, and thus well spoken, which inheriting from the above, means that people must think what we said was of worth for as long as we are seen as good.
We must breathe our own air, and exhale that which empowers the weakest links to form the strongest chains.
We must live not by the rules of society but by the rules we are implicitly imbued with.
And we must die, for all but a few will recognize our worth beyond the cost they see.
We plant the trees we will not gain shade from. We gauge our own worth, and we do not suffer the gauge of others.
We die alone, even around those that love us, for they never love us for the reasons that make us good.