To live is not just to exist.
It's so much more in-depth than that, so much more daring, so much more dangerous.
To live is to take a risk, a great and holy risk. And what do we risk?
Our lives.

In the small dark village of Yakathaim
Near the edge of blackness vale
I spied a bronzen man who came
O’re the rocky mountain trail

His boots were cov’ed in gritty dust
His hands were worn and rough
His sword was red with years of rust
And His voice was thick and gruff

“Ho, thou long worn traveling-man,”
I hailed him on the road,
“Come hence, I’ll give thee a hand,