Tug of War

I wanted to be a fighter, Mama said not with a sword but with wit and knowledge.

Dad said I needed to sharpen the sword on both edges, the world is not linear.

Mama said blood stains linger longer and are heavier on the heart.

I didn’t want to be weary and aged before my time came.

I learned how to pick fights the cunning way.

Creating moments of deception and letting others believe they have the upper hand.

The illusion of power, a very enticing elixir.

A cloak of false confidence that bedazzles many, others it finds comfort in.

I guess that is what mama was worried about, she knew most people can’t wield it.

The old man knew the fight was inevitable.

Power alienates and creates devils out of angels.

But the devil’s in the details, the art of war is calculative and attentive.

It takes away pieces of our soul and gives false derivatives on our personas.

I am learning how to ground myself, I talk to the trees for guidance, I need to be rooted; Get it?