I had to step into the mess if I wanted to accomplish anything of substance.
Each action a blow to His body.
Each choice a slap to His face.
With blood-stained face, and tattered flesh.
With all the strength His soul had to give.
He chose me as His and fully paid the price.
The battle rages within.
What I want to do versus what I ought to do.
Through these lenses of war I make decisions.
Daily choices, that determine the outcome of life and living.
Imagine a world where I am me, and you are you. A world where me being me does not take away from you being you.
This Dichotomy, where logic makes no sense at all.
Where instead of running parallel, all things intersect.
A place where Last is First, and Surrender is Honor.
This place where Death became Life.