The Gauntlet

I feel the cold of the steely eyes as they peer from the fringes of the landscape I walk. Are they a siren’s call or are they a warning that my walk is a fool’s errand? Either way mortality is the message as the sand in the hourglass takes its natural course. Faced with life’s inevitable destination the choice of how I walk is vested in the soul I’ve been given by God’s hands.

Amor Towles exclaims that “the Good Lord calls you to your feet by making you feel alone and forgotten. For only when you have seen that you are truly forsaken will you embrace the fact that what happens next rests in your hands, and your hands alone.” This is one of life’s truths and those who embrace this truth are ensured to live a life worth living. Victory or defeat are equally possible but either way to die on life’s battlefield by your own volition is the only standard worth living by.

I feel the stare of the black dog, but I do not look away. I stare back in defiance, challenging the canine’s metaphorical mission. My only fear is to not take up arms, rather cower in the shadows of others’ judgements. The twin thieves stalk me and hold the tiller of my life. No more will I acquiesce. I cast aside those who weigh me down. I stare back as a challenge of will. This a battle a cannot lose - I will not lose.