What is revolution but a spark in the heart of man that spreads like wild fire? The cleansing burn of all that has withered and died, and of all that shields such waste from less drastic forms of renewal?
There comes a critical point of emergence from the chaotic vortext of past and future when one comes alive in the burning present, with no choice but to become the living urges that will no longer slumber beneath the crust of the apathetic status quo. There is no intellectual awareness of this primal push. It is only in retrospect that one can appreciate the meaning and effect of the moment in which the world came alive. It is only while walking amongst the brave new sprouts rising from the ashes of a burnt forest, or on the hard black surface of what was once molten lava that one can say, "It is here we had a revolution."
There is work to be done long after the fire cools, generations of growth needed in order to begin to comprehend the structure of a new world that revealed itself in a moment- a moment that is remembered and renamed as revolutionary.