The Warrior hung his head low admitting personal defeats, mistakes and shortcomings.
Love has mysterious ways – swoops gallantly with unforeseen magic, hides behind timid innocence, ebbs and flows, sometimes frustrates and confuses. The Warrior knew this but had lost his powers, worn thin by many battles.
When he told her he was trying, really he was trying to find his strength again. But damned if others, victims of their own bitterness and wallowing in resentment, would dare to poison the future, whatever it held in its enigmatic hands; time and space were mere puppets amid hyperactive fingers that flipped them around endlessly at will.
The sharp pains in his chest slowed his breathing. He wandered aimlessly through the village in the middle of the night, aching to see her and caution her on some people’s ulterior motives. But he had to respect her space during this time of separation, hoping and praying they would not inflict permanent damage. He had to trust her heart, no matter the cracks and pain it bore at this time, caused by him in the first place. Some people in the village were talking about it, judging his actions, and they had every right to protect her. But they did not know what he was going through, and there were moments when he was lost for answers; sadly, he knew this confused her, left her feeling like an outsider. But it was she who mattered most not them, even if he had not openly honoured that.
His stride was heavy and slow, unlike his confident gait of not so long ago but oh so far away. He struggled not to let the weight of the wait cause his knees to give in, sluggishly allowing his positive emotions to surface.
“Wash over me,” he told himself, “Wash over me and help me find myself again. Purge what is draining me and heal what is wounded, keep what is real and remove the layers of deceit that others have planted through their own insecurities. Lead me to that stable ground where the trees grow close enough to protect each other from the harsh winds of change, but far apart enough not to suffocate each other’s growth.”
He reached the water, his trusty companion in times of strife, and he listened to the voice of his reflection in the liquid mirror as its ripples hypnotised him into focus, “Embrace the recent faults you have been trapped by, because they serve as reminders you of who you are when you are at your best, when you are able, when the worries of the world are not capable of breaking your foundations, and you hold your power in both hands and lay it before her with quiet confidence to share and find her own strengths as well when they are low. This is the quality that has always made you stand out from the rest, and this is what has suffered the most hardship of late. Remember that when people say ‘Love is everything,’ it really does mean everything… it is the soft touch of her skin as she rolls into your arms in the morning, it is the sand that gets in your eyes and blinds you, the ocean that takes you far and wide into unimaginable places, an emotional kaleidoscope of possibilities. The soft breeze that cools you from the scorching heat of passion, the desert rose you almost overlooked in your exhaustion after so many battles. Too vulnerable to honour the most important element of life, too caught up in life itself to take time for true healing after every campaign.”
The Warrior was finally waking from deep emotional slumber, and when he finally rested his head on his pillow that night with renewed peace and resolve, he lay his hand on his heart and prayed that all was not lost.
thanks to Karin Pinter ( www.karinpinter.com)…
We all warriors whose survive in life and whose breath in love arent we?