Invictus

It was like I was shot through the heart. Pierced through my ribcage and flesh by a thunderbolt come from some unknowable provenance. I was down; I was low. My spirit's wholesomeness in a feeble state. I found myself winding the villainous back roads of self-doubt. And how fast I careered. But while under the shadowy vault of self-pity something of an immense force struck every particle of my very soul. The adrenaline was oh so noticeable as it coursed throughout my body, carried along by the vehicles inside me wrought by aeons of time and nature's patience. And my mind. It was if a fog or haze was swiftly cleared from my thoughts. I could soon feel a primordial strength take hold of me. Strangely, it was at once a physical vitality and a mental one. I used it; I fell into it; I armed myself with its weapons. And thus reinvigorated I clawed and climbed myself out of the pitiful abyss.

And here I stand—still here and always so. A man with but his heart, his head, his body and his will. With purpose and direction. A murderer of fear and a liberator of my own design. Freed from my self-convicted imprisonment. With his eyes and volition directed forward unto every new sun. Soul invictus.

M.M. — 28-Mar-2015