The sublime hour of the giants has echoed in the firmament of destiny.

They are giants in faith, stainless bulwarks against the darkest infamy.

They are titans of courage, immune to trembling before the darkest abysses of the soul.

They are leviathans of love, inexhaustible dispensers of benevolence, even when the world responds with cold indifference or bitter aversion.

They are architects of thought, never satisfied with pre-packaged truths; bold explorers of unexplored intellectual horizons, dismantlers of obsolete dogmas with the tenacity of a hammer that shatters the rock.

They are beacons of positivity and optimism, whose light shines undaunted even in the heart of the deepest night, facing the storms of existence with a vigor that defies all logic.

They are masters of vision and strategy, creators of paths in the desert of the impossible, weavers of amazing solutions from nothing, like demiurges who shape worlds from primordial chaos.

They are heroes of the impossible, who, defying every chain of physicality, rise into flight, without wings, without artifacts, in a sublime denial of the laws of the universe.

They are apostles of humility, whose thrones are the most humble pews, eyes always vigilant scanning the human horizon in search of souls in the shadows to illuminate or broken hearts to gather in a saving embrace.

The era belongs to the giants, beings of a magnificence that echoes the echo of that Divine Giant, who two thousand years ago walked the dusty roads of planet earth, tearing apart the darkness of ignorance and pain with the power of celestial lightning.

The sacred hour has come, with a truth that resonates through the ages: it has, without a shadow of a doubt, come.