As a boy, I often dreamt of riding beneath storm-filled skies with a sword at my side, like Sigurd of old, seeking ancient Hindarfjall, where noble Brynhild, bound by dark enchantments, lay asleep behind a wall of shields and a ring of fire. I knew, with the unwavering certainty of childhood, that somewhere there were dragons to be slain, curses to be broken, and black keeps where fair maidens awaited deliverance. The world seemed vast enough to contain such wonders.
That world has changed, or perhaps only our imagination has grown dim. We live in an age that deconstructs and subverts tales of valiant knights and damsels in distress, reducing them to outdated, childish fancies unworthy of serious men. I cannot help but pity such disenchantment. A society that no longer dreams of heroes is, I think, poorer for it. Though such longings have become unfashionable, I cannot abandon them.
Thankfully, the dreaming boy remains. Whenever those towers rise above the trees, some forgotten part of me still believes that behind one high window a candle burns, a princess waits, and a knight, though long delayed, is still riding through the darkness.
~ By Giovanni di Napoli, August 12th, Feast of Santa Chiara d’Assisi
