A Warrior

My reason fails to grasp at the wings of understanding
it falls from heights and lands
and fears its descent.

But then the warrior never cared for reason.
He marks his path in solemn ways,
honors his error as hidden intent.

Come! I dare you to fare the worst! For the prince longs to see blood. The prince longs to be a warrior, and for what the warrior does, we can only attest to the finest matters of love and madness.

Thus with laughter we kill on the battlefield of sin.
The higher we aspire the more we crave to be cut down as a tree
“Hold sacred your highest hope.” –and love like the innocence of a child.
The Nature to be cruel whispers in my ear.
Thus the prince spoke to his lover for the first time.

For the warrior knows,
wishes to slay that which is inside and claim victory
and through his own victory, overcoming himself,
does he then see the true battle and peace of mind that says –war and courage have accomplished more than love of one’s neighbors.

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