Hold the head I said! There is nothing greater than pulsing forearms under the weight of a slayed monster. How dark it may seem, how vulgar its symbolism. Hold what had bled because of your efforts. If you allow the blood to seep from your own body then you may have left it too late.
If a problem is present, you are not good enough and that is not acceptable. To accept standard and to accept happenings are to be made distinct, for they are too often used synonymously. I could indeed, with no hesitancy in regards to its legitimacy, scorch ‘acceptance of happenings’ upon my forehead. Its a skill and position with no hole, because it is unravelled truth, there is nothing to be unsure of despite its scale. What is happening must be accepted in this way, to respect truth, which is to respect nature and that is to respect its direction, comfortable or not.
As I hold the head of a monster I, with strong impetus suggest that an acceptance of standard on the account of a problem should never come into fruition. It is indeed a mission to find a solution, first you must crawl through the muddy trenches of inadequacy all whilst normal shots are still being fired in your direction. Then one must hastily, although with good form, stand and climb the tower of individualism, you will have no help unless you climb it, as the greater you, the you that despises you of yesterday, is perched at the top. How you choose to climb that tower is only to be judged by those that have too climbed. Now a tower is not the most practical approach to slay a monster since it is already better than you yesterday, it may be bigger than you today. For this reason is why you must climb back down the same way you came up, revise your path or you will not be able to find your steps. Monsters can read steps not the future. As it reads yours, so do you. Your cavalry, your station of weapons, your scheme now knows where the monster will be. So you may take one step to the right and swing down with all your might!
But not before, my friend, looking at it in the eyes, watch it cry and you pour down on its being, watch it shrivel in the presence of your coldness, let it wither into ashes as your breathe of fire engulfs its being. These rules should be applied to even the tiniest of monsters. In fact, killing baby monsters is not only easier, but more satisfying. As you can imagine my evil smirk, look at your tower and address its shady corners. For I have little monsters and for that I keep as close to good as would does to what is not real.
Hold its head I said! Let the ones that are curious see its face and you may all drink its blood together.
Saturn – Peter Paul Ruben, 1636
Green Dharma 
Now I’m curious