Where Are You Going, Young Warrior?

Where Are You Going, Young Warrior?

You, with the world on your shoulder and bitterness on your lips, where are you going in such a hurry? You wear your flashy robes and wave banners of disrespect and disobedience high above you with arrogant pride and blind ignorance.

You say you don’t care where the road leads, only that your feet itch to be upon the pavement and impatience fills the air. You’re too busy to stop, to care, or to get your bearings. It’s too hard, too much work, requires too much time, and the disease of integrity. Do you even know your destination?

Listen to my heart, hear my words. I’ve been that way, walked that road, and know all its turns and edges. I can tell you every tree, every rock, every hole, and ever hiding place along the path. I’ve seen where it leads, carried the heavy load, and have felt all its infliction.  Yes, I survived, but barely.

I once believed I too was invincible, that the monsters lurking in shadows would not harm me. Not me!  They only exist to scare children or weaklings, but I’m was a warrior, a bad ass, and took no shit. Come closer, young warrior, and look at my scars and see the toll Road Demons have taken. Don’t only look at the visible scars upon my flesh, but gaze deeper and set your attention upon the inner wounds of my soul where the true nightmares live. That’s where Fear remains, writing his words on the back of my eyelids, on the inner-side of my lips, on the bottom of my tongue, on the back of my hands, and on the soles of my feet.

Young warrior, that I would save you the dark journey is my fondest wish.  Let me feed you. Let me give you a place of safety to rest this night, and with the dawn of acuity, set your fervent feet on a diverse path that will lead to greener pastures, smoother hills, greener woods, and beautiful beaches.  That particular way, the dangerous way you’re headed, is only filled with dead things – lost things – dark things.  You think you’re strong enough to defeat what lurks in the shadows, but you’re not.  You’re just a man, not a god.  

If you can’t heed my words, heed my scars. If you can’t see my scars, close your eyes, young warrior, and listen to the pain that fills the earth.  Listen to the weeping and gnashing of teeth at the cries of injustice, the pain of abandonment, the bondage of addiction, and the cruelty of indifference waft like a low mist. The world of that path grieves because it’s filled with sorrowful songs.

© T.L. Gray 2018