The defeated warrior.
A man stands broken, leaning on the shattered flesh that he once thrust into harm's way. This jaded silhouette on the horizon stands ominously over
the edge of our sanity. His body is torn and made bitter but his eyes wander not from the glory of the sun rise.
When once this light bathed his armor in its resplendence, now it glows warm around his red flesh, reflecting off the pools of his blood on the ground
before him. The world is stained in his sacrifice.
Beyond this visage of loyal last stand his enemies move towards him defiantly. Not even in death will they honor him. He that honored the sacred
brotherhood of mankind. They stand against him not as men, but as something less. Something they made that has convinced them of their supremacy. He
looks not upon them. In his eyes only the light of the ascending sun is shown. They are as nothing to him. He is as nothing to them. The heat of
battle slowly dissipates from his body.
The many men now wandering the battlefield taking opportunity and fortune by the horns, now look through the bits and pieces of the defeated warriors
now broken army, lying dead at his feet.
They finally reach him and pause, gazing deeply into the firm gaze of their vanquished foe.
His eyes finally meet theirs and a cold stillness overtook them all. The warrior smiled to himself and let his head rest upon his chest. He felt as
chin let a stream of hot blood roll down over his breast plate and fall slowly to the ground. The defeated warrior awaits their advance, listening to
his essence drip onto the ground beneath him. His wounds are deep but pain does not reach him. His veins are drained but fatigue does not take hold
over him. He is beyond their war. He is a human being taking his last breath on this good earth.
He is like the sun rising. He is flowing like the rains that will wash the open field, flowing and free falling. He is like the dawn. He is like the
morning dew. His defeat does not dishonor him.
He fought until he could no longer. While he lived, mankind was not without a champion. While his sword was still in his hand, free men still walked
the earth. Though he is the last. Though he is but a common man. He knows he has never seen the day of his defeat. His victory was not in victory but
rather the truth of his existence. Never has man surrendered his freedom.
Mankind had its life taken, not its existence diminished. The warrior is satisfied. His people have not become slaves. His people will suffer no
longer. They were then and always, freemen.
He thinks contently to himself these things and about the beauty of the world around him he now leaves as his enemies blades shred into his flesh. His
knees come crashing down into the pools of his hard bled sacrifice. The last thing his eyes see is the warm sun over the horizon slowly rolling back
as his body falls lifeless. His eyes now closing. He lies on his back, staring into the sky. He exhales his last breath through his smile. The world
grows dark.
The conquerors raise their weapons above him, as they fall the defeated warrior falls. They cheer over his dead body. They praise eachothers skill.
The world grows darker still.
The warmth of the sun now passing. Day becomes night and all are off to restful celebration. The day is theirs.
The general of the conquering army inspects his new land. He arrives to inspect the battlefield and sees a child walking down the road, full of
dignity. Noticing that the child is wearing the coat of arms of his vanquished foe, he asks: "child, are you not moved by the sight of your country
men lying dead all around you?".
The child, without shedding a tear or losing his composition responded :"yes sir, I am moved. I am filled with strength courage and wisdom. I see no
greater testament to any people than to see their last effort as a people be one of unity solidarity and unending loyalty. We have not left this
battle field in dishonor. We have remained and when it became our grave we consecrated the ground with the noble blood of our fathers, brothers, and
sons. They have proven here and today that we were and will always be, a free people. Our death was certain since our inception, but our lasting
honor is our own miracle and so a blessing. "
Puzzled at first the general thinks silently to himself and then suddenly raises his hand and orders for the boy to be allowed to pass. The story of
the day must be heard by others. The honor and dignity of defeated warriors must be known by both sides that it may never be stricken from mankind´s
soul.
The defeated warrior, the noble warrior, is victorious. His quest is for the honor and freedom of his people, not his enemies defeat. His enemy is
irrelevant to the warrior. His honor and his freedom are not.
edit on 12-5-2012 by BIHOTZ because: (no reason given)
