Battlefield
Unwelcoming air; Mimicking the world,
Shrouded in warmth; A seductive warmth,
But a rejection is in order; So the soles hit the floor.
The daily conquest; Has its first victory,
A spirit has awoken; Igniting the chest,
Embodying it’s host; Leading him to war,
Clouding his vision; Bringing clarity to his battle.
A warm gut; The fertile morning air,
Birds sing; The battlefield is still,
Warriors prepare; Their battle awaits,
A day to be seized; Victory to be had.
A bloodied sword; The chaos of war,
His chest flared; Inflamed by conquest,
A clear mind; A resolute spirit,
Steadfastly he fights; Slaying the day’s dragons.
Weary he grows; Unwavering is his opponent,
Devils tempt; Offering comfort,
But it’s a ruse; A ploy to smother his spirit,
Hidden in the offer; The dark abyss of indolence.
Another rejection; Grit is mustered,
Gripping nothing; But his honour,
With wobbling legs; With unwavering spirit,
His mettle is quenched; His dragons are slain.
The battlefield settles; An exhale of relief,
Valiantly he battled; Victory he earned,
Wounds to tend; War awaits dawn,
But he is serene; Finding peace in victory.
~ The hiker above the sea of fog - Caspar David Friedrich - 1817