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The Warrior



The harsh pain of birth and childhood filled his life with tears.

He loved his world, which had refused him for far too many years.

The many peoples would not comfort his bruised and tattered soul,

And ignored the love he'd offer in every place he'd go;

So this boy was just a slave building castles in the rain,

For a world of grasping masters who would tear them down again;

Blind masters with their tentacles who took all that they could touch,

There may become a time when they will take too much.

They never tried to take his love, that their grasping couldn't feel.

It's all they ever left behind, and only it was real.

So left with his gift ungiven, still wrapped in his small hand,

He trembled and continued building castles in the sand.

As he grew, so did his spirit, and his strength of heart and mind.

And his gift of love grew heavier, and the masters grew more blind.

His faith seemed to diminish as he laboured in the rain,

And tears that mixed with raindrops unveiled his inner pain.

Then one day the sun came out and he set down his tools.

He looked and saw the reflection of a warrior in the pools.

He saw muscle, strength, and sinew, and set his love aside.

The injustice and indignities were about to be defied.

He wiped away the stinging tears and stood up straight and tall.

The seeds of his rebellion would burgeon against it all.

The fertile seeds of freedom would once again be heard,

When their cries of birth are echoed and can scarcely be endured.

The mighty warrior surfaced and overthrew the bonds,

That kept him from seeing who he was in his reflection in the ponds.

The shackles of the government snapped like so much dry wood,

And he overthrew the tentacles of the masters of no good.

He sacked the land that robbed him and taught him how so well.

His eyes were blood. He snorted fire. He seemed to come from hell.

The smoke of battle was on him and he rose up from the din,

And he conquered all the lands that he had been exploited in.

He surveyed what he had conquered and he hadn't missed a thing.

With his head held high, he set his chin and heard his freedom ring.

When his might was at its highest and his pride was at its best

In the midst of all his glory he received a small request.

He felt a touch upon his finger, his attention to command,

And looked down at a tiny child, who was tapping on his hand.

On all his fields of battle, he avoided injury with ease,

But the touch of this sweet child brought the warrior to his knees.

He looked down and saw this child, with innocence and charm,

Looking up at this great warrior and tapping on his arm.

The love that he had set aside when he subdued ten thousand men,

Was standing there in all its glory and looking up at him.

In the window of the soul on the face of that sweet child,

He saw the weakness in his strength. The warrior was beguiled.

Love can hit you where you're weak, and when you think you're strong,

Love will unexpectedly show you that you're wrong.

When the smoke of battle clears, and you've sailed all seven seas,

Tears of love will burn your sight like that warrior on his knees.

The warrior - and his lady - had both been very small,

So they understood the child and listened to his call.

When he was down there on his knees looking into that child's eyes,

He was taller than he had ever been with his head up in the skies.

Remembering the labour, he felt the struggle and the pain.

He knew of the need of freedom, and of sunshine, and of rain.

The warriors freedom conquered all but the love of that sweet child,

Which in turn had conquered him and made him meek and mild.

When you're weary, the love of a child can give you peace of mind,

And the peace that you've been seeking was with him all the time.

The love that you have set aside, again a child can bring,

To tap at the heart of each warrior and make him a slave, and a king!