Once again, I stood before the fireless dawn, my mind a battlefield echoing with doubt and shadows. The weight of the world clung to my shoulders, though no enemy’s blade had yet drawn my blood. I could not name this foe, though I have fought it many times before. It crept upon me, like the chill of winter slipping beneath armor, finding the cracks I did not know were there.
I grip my sword, yet it felt heavier than it should. My movements, once fluid and sure, now labored, my thoughts are now mud slowing my steps. I curse myself for the distraction, for my own mind’s betrayal—how I had paused to tend to lesser things, even as I tried to focus on the great battle ahead.
Still, I know the truth: I fought and won before. I have faced worse than this—a thousand enemies with sharper weapons than fatigue or distraction. Why, then, am I so slow? Is it truly the cold? Or is it my own spirit, worn thin by the endless march of days past, the ceaseless war against the grind of life’s demands?
Yet even as these thoughts whisper their venom into my ears, I straighten my spine. I am no stranger to pain, no stranger to burden. My armor is not merely metal; it was forged from the fires of every defeat, every loss, every long night. It bore the marks of my resilience. Each dent and scar whisper, I survived.
“I am a warrior,” I say out loud, the words burning against the frost in my lungs. “I will not falter, I will prevail.”
I look to the hill where the enemy’s torches flicker in the dark, small fires that once might have daunted me. Now, I saw them for what they were—not signs of fear, but nothing but little rays of light guiding me to my next victory, one by one, they will fall. When dawn break, those torches will be outshone by the sun, and I will stand in its blaze, victorious. If it was my mind that limits me, I will free it. If it is my body, I will strengthen it. If it was the cold wind seeking entry through my armor, I will seal the gaps and face it head-on. I will walk through fire, through ice, through exhaustion itself. I will move forward. I will not stop. My enemies—be they tasks, burdens, or demons of doubt—will fall, one by one, like shadows chased by the rising sun.
For I am a warrior. I will sleep when I am dead.
The sun shines harder for the brighter, and my armor shines. Forged with the sweat and pain of battles past, born from the fires life has thrown my way. I forged it, piece by piece, under the hammer of perseverance, and now I will wear it—not just for myself, but for the love that fueled my every step, for the faith that braced my heart, for the God who bore witness to my struggle.
I am ready. The day is near. The torches will fade, the light will grow. I will rise, sword in hand, and meet the battle. For I am a warrior.
To battle. To life. To God. For love.
