The Sun rose upon my battlefield, finding me once again barely healed from my most recent encounter. The wounds I suffered I feared, no, prayed, would do me in, but, not I, for I am fated to survive. Haggard, beaten, close to the end, but always drawn back to the living so that I can suffer just that much longer. And my suffering increased tenfold as the realization came to me that if I am alive still, if I survived once more, I must once again prepare to fight that which hopeless to fight, for I am a weaponless combatant against my foe. For what defense can prevent a smile from clouding my eyes, or a thought from disrupting my mind, Or a touch from stealing my heart? Ahhhh! It’s an unfair fight when I so willingly allow my foe to take me. What little resistance am I able to put up against this Deadliest of Assassins! It’s such a sweet death I would suffer, would I be but allowed to die. But to die? No, for to die would mean to give up forever; Not just this confrontation, on this day, but every battle yet unfought. Infinite chances lost for perhaps the attainment of that long sought stalemate. I want not to win, to defeat and concur my foe, for I know that it is something that once concurred and under control, it truly disappears forever, a worse fate than suffering in the attempts for attainment of a compromise, a treaty which would allow me time to heal and grow strong again. A period where perhaps a friend could be made of my most revered foe. I bare myself to my would-be assailant. My only defense I offer is the warm curve of my soft, vulnerable neck, for surely, what manner of Being could do harm to one so fully exposed, offering no resistance, wanting only an end to this most predictable outcome, wanting only that which comes, so I believe, to those pure and simple in Heart. And as I stand there, as always, with my arms at my side, my eyes pointing down at the ground, my neck exposed to the sky, hoping to stop the march of my foe by offering total surrender. Again, as always, the end begins as it always has; My naked neck brushed with the Sweet kiss of love, my offer of truce refused as I am unwillingly taken prisoner. The battle lost at its beginning. For who can resist a Kiss of Love, and who would care to try?
Posted on: Sat, 03 Aug 2013 03:44:30 +0000
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