Lost in the midst of battle, crying not for pain but for vengeance for those who had fallen. Call on the power of fire, call on until the tongue dries to the roof of my mouth. The dawn slowly brings forth the sun, drawing with it colors so beautiful, so breath taking, yet all that is lost to those who fight on. Reach toward the unfinished goal; to breach the gates of the enemy, to bring victory to those who are good. Fight for that which is worth keeping, safe that which if it were ever to become lost, would bring about nothing but pain and sorrow and emptiness and strife.
Fight on.
Strength turning to weakness, hope swaying in the wind. Flesh succumbing, threatening to give out. Press on past the burning, past the aching, past the desire for sleep, rest, and eternal slumber, falling to the ground. Swinging the sword again and again, using your muscles to their limits and then some. Know that you can still make it home, if only you persist, never giving up another chance to see her face once again. To hear her laugh, see her smile, watch her sleep, this is what I fight for. Freedom to love, freedom to work for one's self, freedom from self-empowering, self-pursuing, self-indulging rulers.
Fight on.
To give up is to give in to life forsaken, life under broken doctrines, life where slavery and hardship and burden are every day. Be the resistance, draw the line between good and evil and live only for the good. The fire. Don't let the candle of hope grow cold. The candle burns alone, but it guides us safely home. Fan the flame the guides us home. The buzzing. Tune out the buzzing of the wicked, the self-righteous, the mockers, the oppressors, and usurpers.
Fight on.
No comments:
Post a Comment