My world burns severe.
Pockets of sweltering air attack every inch of me exposed, heated by fire spewed forth from the lungs of dragons. For defense I raise a glowing sword that shines by virtue of powers contrary to those I fight against. It is a battle that rages on and on for as long as any man can endure. But there are days I feel I cannot―drained and weary unlike these monsters that lash at me as if sustained by an abiding fervor in their bellies. The battle is harsh and my weapons heavy.
You alone give me hope.
And for that reason only I raise my sword and prepare to push the demons back once again.

It may seem like the dragons tormenting you are bigger and fiercer than those lurking in your neighbor’s yard, but this is an illusion. We all face mighty dragons at home in some form.

Dragons are a manifestation of things we fear. More often than not, those fears prove to be just as daunting and just as imaginary.

I think in the heart of every human being there burns an ember of hope that warmly entices us to believe everything will eventually come together into one perfect day, and that potentially the hours in this day will stretch on indefinitely. And so we live our lives in hopeful anticipation, dreaming and praying to reach this wondrous day, while in the process we miss out on the anxious affair that life truly is. Life is not perfection; it is everything else. We must taste and experience heartaches and trials in order to feel the genuine joy that comes from enduring them well. We then move on, wiser and more capable of charity—this being pure love and the reason for life’s trials altogether.

A dragon grows in leaps and bounds,
Like troubles mounting by the pound.

Its stature heightens day to day,
Imposing dread and deep dismay.

A paralyzing roar it gains
While from its snout hot fire rains.

It sees you shrink. Your fear it knows.
And by the hour the nightmare grows.

Unless you slay the dragon soon,
Your troubles may become your doom.

Gratitude is a grinning attitude.