I think every day that I am dying.  And I think a lot lately, because I spend most of my time in bed, exhausted as I am, it seems, constantly.  Maybe it's this nasty cold that has settled in my chest that weakens me.  Or maybe it is the singular disappointment of being an American of progressive ideals living in this new century—suffering under the evidence that it will not get better before I am gone—that weighs me down.  Either way, my defences are down, my capacity for decieving myself with facades of hope is diminished, and the tenderest flesh of my soul is directly exposed to the harshest realities of life, and death.  This is always a good time to try and say something. 

Often I come here to try and persuade.  Sometimes I come here just to rant and rail, to raise a plaintive howl into the sacred night.  But these things are the fruits of energy I do not have today.  Today I can only whisper a eulogy. 

There are tiny fires, all across this land, little lights everywhere like reflections of the star-ridden night sky above, only these flickering lights below are in our care.  There, did you see that faint one just go out?  And over there, another just now ignites, flashing briefly light, then dark again and again—it could be gone, but each time it comes back.  Finally it quiets to a steady twinkle, a new fire. 

Centuries ago, there took hold on this continent a fragile flame of liberty and justice, and not in name only as so misused those labels are today.  But the real thing within a modern culture. 

Our leaders today toil to fan the equally fragile flame of corruption and empire.  While not directly opposing the dwindling flame of justice and liberty, they seem intent on letting it die while feeding the destructive conflagration of unjust invasion and conquest under false pretenses. 

We had our chance.  Maybe mankind will have another chance.  Maybe it doesn't matter.  But it was good, and it is no more.  Let it be enough to simply remember the lights of justice and liberty.  Let us not dishonor their memory—nor disrespect ourselves—by pretending we did not let them die.