The Battlefield

Life is a battlefield. I am an ancient warrior overlooking the vast canvas before me. One battle is over for now, but peace has yet to come. The war trumpets and bugles are silent but the wind echoes with the moans and screams of yesterdays. The deceased litter the landscape till the distant horizon. Life falters on unsteady feet as the injured crawl to safety. Stories of valiance and honor will be recorded by both sides and some of them will be true. Some heroes will be worthy of the commemoration given to them postmortem and many cowards will parade wearing colors they do not deserve. Life will smile upon the fearless and the fearful with equal grace. No one walks off this stage without a trial. Victory and defeat will be decided only when the war is over. The rest is just a bunch of numbers.

I am morose today. The end of a journey is a painful precipice. Struggle marks life and stagnation is death. For now I am stagnant and the stench of decay is numbing the senses. I need to keep on moving and finding more battles to fight, winning has ceased to matter. The adrenaline rush, the inner peace of valiance and the joy of the strife keep the senses motivated. As I watch life unfold before my eyes, I make a mental note of everything substantial. Friends who stood in the face of tribulation are separated from the ones who fled in times of need. One milestone covered. Enemies who showed honor, mercy and chivalry are kept in a higher order than the ones who stooped to any and every level in malice. The former may have a chance at redemption even friendship but the latter deserve complete hostility. An eye for an eye keeps the unworthy counting. The lowest forms of life are the traitors who betray us and reciprocate every act of goodness with vindication and venom. Enemies may be forgiven, cowards may be forgotten but death is the only reward of a traitor. Nothing less will suffice.

With my third eye I can visualize myself pondering over the eternal mysteries of the Universe. I am so many people in the same skin. A sage, thinking endlessly over infinite questions. A child, awed and baffled by the smallest observations. A lover, whose heart is brimming with fiery passion. A maiden with naive hopes and dreams of a happily ever after. A gallant soldier with the sword drawn and spirits ablaze, ready to take on every challenge. A healer, bubbling with compassion and empathy for the ailing and the needy. A mother with a gentle, protective maternal instinct. A poet intoxicated in the love of written and spoken words, playing incessantly with a pen. A lunatic rebellious to all other forms within me. I am lost within my own skin, I do not know how much of each I am. But every ounce makes the amalgamation unique and I know I will leave a mark on the battlefield of life.