Few people realize that man has already attained immortality; it's merely been abused, forgotten, and renamed Writing. -Brian Egan

Thursday, August 31, 2006

The Battle for Eternity

It took me years to reach this far, and I wouldn't even be here if I hadn't forgotten who I was and rushed through a host of the enemy. I can't even write this now with the knowledge of whether or not I did the right thing. I don't know if I was running away... or running to the end, either way, I am alone here. My pack is light, my weapons small, my skill undeniable and yet I am ailed by a mysterious sickness. I fight to the extent of my efficiency, and I am eaten by failure. I block the blows of my enemies, but I am still cut deeply. I am not confident of what action to take in my situation... do I wait for help to come to me or do I go back myself? The latter is easily the most logical, but my pride will not loose me from it's strong hold. There are others in my view--I can converse with them and they with me, but the sickness throbs onward. Bit by bit it ebbs away at my conscience, the one battle I fear most to lose, and the one battle which I can not afford to do so. Even as the evil falls to my deadly strokes around me, the poison saps at my mind, like a living host, and the more I think upon it the faster it consumes my very existence. I know now that it feeds off of my strengths, but recedes at my weaknesses. But if I run to my weaknesses, I will surely fall victim to the host of evil around me. Unless there are strengths hidden even from my all-seeing eyes, in which case it would be worth the brief exposure to this death. My cure though, must be willing to help as well, and it is so far away. The path will lead me more out-of-the-way that I dare to go, but for this I must remain strong. IF I concieve to make such a move, I must be certain of the results lest my spirit becomes impaled by the black wind of Satan, yes... I must be patient. Until then I must fight on, fight for the others as nobody fights for me, for when I reach my salvation, the journey will not be at an end. Until that time, I will have no more to say on the matter.

---

I have reached the door, but it is closed before me. I have decided to make the leap, but it has only led me here, to failure. The door is shut, and I am not welcomed in. The cure is inside, but I cannot reach it even to tell if it would help... as I fight off the enemy I become weak. Do I stay and hope that the door will open, or do I run towards another haven? The answers are unclear to me, even as I write what I know to be truth. Truth can be so fleeting at times, so hidden. I can only defend myself here for a small amount of time--after that I will be forced with a decision. It is one I am not anxious to make.

Commentary

1 comment: