Warrior’s Tale

We all start pure, simply loving being loved.

Pummeled with life’s reality we are shocked, afraid to give up our name.
The cloak of innocence shreds with every whipping wind and painful flame.

Icy blindfolds, iron chest plates —
If only we did not discover our true fate?

Life, a fiery goblet, pours down our throats
Sweet memories burned into our souls.
Forever forged with choices, chances, hopes.
We carry our torches crafted from golden memories,
— yearning to find our way.

Damaged with every scar, we push on.
But who of the great warriors survives
without bruises, scratches, burns?
Fighting we are, for every chance at the light,
— to carry our torches another day.

We grow wiser with life’s reality, but no less hopeful.
We grow braver, but no less careful.

Love’s flame casts shadows on yesterday’s scars.
Untouchable memories now white hot as stars.

We are still loved and love on forever.

 

Copyright 2014 Carrie Mamantov, The Rugrat Project

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