THE LAST BATTLE

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the last battle I’ve spent a lifetime as an iron warrior… Pain now is a constant reminder of the life of insecurity that pulled me from among the masses. My body now severely scarred and broken inside and out, but still I press on. As the decades have passed I’ve covered up the body I once worshipped like a temple, but the temple is now old and deteriorating like a fort losing the war with the iron, but refusing to admit defeat. I fight more out of habit now than desire…

Enough battles and time have passed and I’d become weary, tired, worn, and fading from the shining soldier I’d once been. Politics had taken its toll on my attitude and perspective. I began to see the world through different eyes… so much I’d missed… so much I longed for, but it was too late for me. My attitude began to affect or infect my performance. I’d lost my desire to be the iron soldier. For so long the alert eyes and fears of the others brought me inspiration, but pride and ego can only take a man so far… This world is wasting away with the vigor of my youth. My stares last longer, the blinks slower, the pace lessened, the mind catching up.

The race to win leaves the transportation in disrepair, but the human condition finds a way to keep going. Through exhausted eyes flanked with flesh made crevices, though not as sharp as the ancient days of youth, I could see I had nothing else… I was nothing more than the sum of my actions that had defined my life. The wisdom and enlightenment was meant for others, not for a shallow warrior. How would I go out? Would I be the old and slovenly warrior who had lost his edge and desire? A passionless shell of a man?

No… As little as I had, I made a choice to fight to get back and keep what time and apathy were stealing from my shallow soul. With what little I had left inside, I prepared to be the soldier that was now just a memory to all who had ever laid eyes on me. My sponsor reminded me of the inevitable pain… the price of vanity and  glory I suppose…

Months passed and dedication with some fire, fueled by the rejuvenated fear and insecurity of my youth, motivated me to get back to the glimpses of glory I had in the days of honor. My body would take the punishment one more time. My screwed together shoulder and knee along with my battered face would break… but never yield.

I looked pretty good the day before my battle, I could see my abs again… not like before, but my dedication, pride, ego, and insecurity had brought me back from the pits of surrender. It would be a long grueling battle and my sponsor had a good point, after this battle my abs would be back completely… the benefits of war…

White hot pain seared across my face and shoulder threatening to wake me before I was rested from The Last Battle. My sponsor was all smiles as I came to, groggy, “You did good,” he whispered with the smile of a traitor. I nodded… I never lose… Eventually I gathered enough strength, although still unbalanced, I got up to get a look at my abs.

My first glance revealed a set of carved up abs, just like the days of my youth… Then I noticed it… not it actually, but the lack of it. Shock, horror, fear, and hysteria of reality dropped into my stomach like the weight of all humanity… It was my hideous reflection… My left arm had been cut off at the shoulder… My face, what was left of it, must have been used to rebuild someone else’s…

The hell like scream spewing from my belly overflowing with a waterfall of poison woke me from a deep sleep. Now I am scarred and incomplete both inside and out… At least that was my flash of thought as I awoke in a cold sweat…