We fight, despite having lost a thousand battles.
We plow through these mountains, the faintest glimmer of hope driving us.
Despite the tug of waves of quicksand that rises to pull us under, we thrash, flail our arms.
Though our minds are quiet and we pull down a black screen, shutting ourselves out from sinking, drowning–our bodies refuse to give up.
Because we cannot hold our heads underwater for longer than we want to.
We tilt upward, gasping for oxygen and sun and air and the freedom that came before the straitjacket of quicksand and burdens and the prisons we locked ourselves within, and will not escape from. Even though we have the key in our hands.
We lose the willpower to say "no" when "no" is needed. To lift ourselves up and to hover over the world to gaze at the bigger picture.
It appears that we fight. It appears that we keep on going, and we are whole and not broken. It appears that we have enough energy to power a jet for the rest of our lives. We are oysters with hard shells and soft interiors, not wanting to understand that only one in ten thousand of us hide a pearl.
But we have lost the fight. We have lost the fuel. Without a mind, our bodies can only go so far. And though it appears that we will chug on forever, we will soon be crowds of burnt out, lost spirits floating aimlessly through empty deserts. It will soon be evident that our minds have lost every ounce of willpower that our bodies pretend to have.
And yet, we stand.
And yet, we defy our minds.
And yet, we despair silently, hoping that if we continue, our efforts will pay off.
And we do not go easy, do not allow the quicksand to trick us and trap us and snare us without a fight, because we are human, and we are warriors. Because we have hope for the future, and voices to cry with. Because we know that these are battles. And though we may lose a thousand battles, we will never lose this war.
Sam
We plow through these mountains, the faintest glimmer of hope driving us.
Despite the tug of waves of quicksand that rises to pull us under, we thrash, flail our arms.
Though our minds are quiet and we pull down a black screen, shutting ourselves out from sinking, drowning–our bodies refuse to give up.
Because we cannot hold our heads underwater for longer than we want to.
We tilt upward, gasping for oxygen and sun and air and the freedom that came before the straitjacket of quicksand and burdens and the prisons we locked ourselves within, and will not escape from. Even though we have the key in our hands.
We lose the willpower to say "no" when "no" is needed. To lift ourselves up and to hover over the world to gaze at the bigger picture.
It appears that we fight. It appears that we keep on going, and we are whole and not broken. It appears that we have enough energy to power a jet for the rest of our lives. We are oysters with hard shells and soft interiors, not wanting to understand that only one in ten thousand of us hide a pearl.
But we have lost the fight. We have lost the fuel. Without a mind, our bodies can only go so far. And though it appears that we will chug on forever, we will soon be crowds of burnt out, lost spirits floating aimlessly through empty deserts. It will soon be evident that our minds have lost every ounce of willpower that our bodies pretend to have.
And yet, we stand.
And yet, we defy our minds.
And yet, we despair silently, hoping that if we continue, our efforts will pay off.
And we do not go easy, do not allow the quicksand to trick us and trap us and snare us without a fight, because we are human, and we are warriors. Because we have hope for the future, and voices to cry with. Because we know that these are battles. And though we may lose a thousand battles, we will never lose this war.
Sam
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