Birth of a Warrior

Disaffected and Directionless

A gentle spring breeze brushed against the budding branch of a Great Oak tree.

 The branch stretches out from the gnarled bark of the giant Timber. There are spots on the rough, defending layer of cork that covers the wood's inner core. Spots where different varieties of fungus, have attached themselves. Digging in their roots,  rotting away the growth of time. 

Nevertheless this great monolith of life grows stronger. Beside this timber flows a life sustaining, ethereal river. The gentle, nurturing care of its essence laps against the eroded banks of time. In it's quest for partnership it planted the very seed that sprung into this living extension of itself. 

As the branches of the Oak grow, the trees roots take to the fertilizers of life. Growing through the muck. They eek out an existence. Pushing buried stones out of their path.  Always in pursuit of sustenance. 

Over time more and more have found their way to the spring of life. It's very being is suckled on. It's life force pumps through the trees inner core and great branches have sprung to new heights, while time marches on. 

 The divine banquet has fueled this new growth. Some branches begin to show signs of an inner burning strength. Their bark is thickened. Their fruits grow large and luscious. That is where the predators hunt.

The birthday of A Free Nation. During the aftermath of a Civil War. Sentenced to death before his bald head could break through and inhale the next element of growth. The Warrior was born. His bright blue eyes opened up to the light of a dark world. His screams filled the underground cavern, where his parents were in hiding. His Grandfather guarded the entryways with the blade of his sword.

 Moments before the hour of darkness, when the veil of good and evil draws a line and pits the one side against the other. The Warrior stretched out his sword arm for the first time. His mother wept with joy. His father wrapped his youthful arms around his family. A peace hovered over the room, like a dove.  His cries were heard.

Dedicated to love. Nurtured in strong moral convictions. Yet raised amongst a people who viewed him as an outsider. He grew to develop an understanding for the proper time to sharpen his weapons. The foundations of a Warrior of Righteousness were being forged. As human as the rest of his peers, he made mistakes. The battles that sprung from them, kept him in constant turmoil. Coupled by the relentless attack from an enemy he truly didn't understand. In many ways he grew into bondage...