Getting Up


The ant towers over me like Lord and King
It crushes my spirit with a force
It says your war is not over
You puny soul, get up!
Where is pain? There is none
Who are you? No one
You are powerless against me
You cannot ignore the portent
You puny soul, get up!
Self-pummeling will get you nowhere
You are whipped and crushed by my hand
Submission is not war
Where is your sword? Lost
Who are you? A fighter
Still, you puny soul, get up!
The ant is not so big that I shall lie beneath its shadow
My soul is tired and weak
But I am not powerless to fight
The portent is put to shame
Here I stand on my own two feet
My sword is not girded that I may miss my strike
Not against me, but against the war inside me
I am Lord and King of my own vessel
I am puny to no one

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