Honor the Armor

 

Sometimes we have to rid ourselves of things that hinder us under the guise of protection. What's your Armor looking like?

 

Note from the Field: What's up my Outcasts. I know it has been quite awhile but I am still here. I have been going through a transition in my life to get and feel better in all areas of my life. This piece you are about to read will tie into everything that has come to light over the past few weeks. May this find you well and at peace.

 A warrior walks uphill for what seems like an eternity.
No matter where he looks or turns there was a battle to fight.
Even in his mind he was vigilant, fighting to slay - or come to terms - with the demon within that wore his own face.
A face that lost the meaning of a smile, of joy, of laughter.
Did he make the choice to be that way, or was it the villain on the other side?
Perhaps the answer was one and the same. 

He reach a boulder at the top of a hill. There was a willow tree that provided a temporary relief from the boisterous glory of the sun.

'Finally, a moments respite,' he says to himself.
Even as he approached, he was skeptical. 

Running scenarios in his head like a battle drill. Looking over his shoulder to determine where enemies would strike him down. Analyzing the environment for storms. Bracing for natural and unnatural disasters. Each scenario digging deeper into his past.

With each scenario he curated, the heavy armor burned into his skin, intensified by the heat of battle and the light of what he thought was divine. His heart thumped in his chest at the rate of crossbow arrows shot from above. The shockwaves felt throughout his body as they would all pulse in unison. The blood in his body rippled like raindrops in a lake. His head felt crushed from the temples and from atop his brow. His shoulders heavy and hunched by invisible baggage only he deemed  himself worthy, or unfortunate to carry. 

He was groomed from a young age to bear this armor. To train for it, with it. To embrace it. To honor it. To maintain it because, like the many weapons he would carry, this armor had one duty -- to protect the man that bore it.

He would come to name his armor SURVIVAL.

Each time he bore SURVIVAL, it would burn previous battles into his body...his mind...his soul. There was never a moment of pause with it or without it. The Armor warned him of the endless battles and threats ahead. Without it, he would hear the whispers of what was before - the horrors he faced from decades past.

Poverty at every turn.
His parents driven to scramble until their union was destroyed by vices bred by their own traumas.
The environment pushing him to live one way, confines of faith in another.
Neither benefited him - or so he thought.

He would have to find his own way one day, but how?
The armor answered for him - SURVIVAL. 

'I cannot go on like this' he utters, as he sits and observes nature in its beauty and fury.

The armor responds with vibration into his skin 'without me? You'll be exposed...vulnerable...blinded like a fool that stares into the sun. There is no stopping. You cannot avoid us.'

Thats what the voice within SURVIVAL always says, a voice like his own. A mirror inverted and yet amplified. Certain he was better prepared with the armor for all the hazards in the world and in his mind, but deep inside he knew...he felt...it made him love life a little less, and all the intricacies of the unknown. It all scared him...made him not want to think about what lay ahead.

But the path of Survival was one of no sunshine. There had to be another way. 

'I must be rid of you SURVIVAL. I no longer want to live within your prison. Surrounded by you. Engulfed by you.'

The voice cackled 'You want to disown us? Cast us away like the waste from your body? How will you live without us watching over you? Protecting you? What good will you do absolutely alone and unprotected?'

'I...am not alone. I am not unprotected. I must...allow my skin to feel the elements of life. You do not know of life, you only protect a life from its fears...my fears. That is why I must disband you.'

A breeze passed in-between the gaps between the warriors charred skin, the pulse in his veins, and the armor bound to him.

'This is a brave move. Unlike your past. If you wish to sever ties with us to secure your future in the present...you must first honor us...piece by piece.'
 

SURVIVAL glowed and pulsed. All 5 parts together in unison. The warrior looked on and nodded. 'very well. Where do I start?'

'That is yours to decide Warrior of Life. Choose...and remember what we have done for you.'

 

To be continued. 

 #UnSkrypted #OpenLoops #InkInAction #HonorTheArmor #Survival