A Battle to End Battles

Is it a mountain, tall, and proud?

It’s presence booms: “No, you cannot pass me!”

Or is it a river, fast, and wide?

The current whispers: “Come, I’ll sweep you away.”

A hedge maze, perhaps? When we entered, who can say?

The wind in the leaves hisses: “You’ll never get out.”

Or an army charging forth at full speed.

The bannermen scream: “This will be your doom!”

But they’re wrong.

For the general of that army, hiding behind them,

The one who summoned fear to the field,

is me.

The maze’s architect, who hides in its midst,

The one who reshapes, and prevents escape,

is me.

The source of the river, who controls the flow,

who erodes the channel, widening the crossing

is me.

The mountain itself, growing higher and higher,

but never moving, stubborn to a fault,

is me.

Insurmountable problems; subjective, yet real.

I cannot win these battles.

But what I can do is refuse to fight.

For they are me, and I they.

I will not ascend the mountain, I will melt it back down into the earth.

I will not cross the river until I have calmed it.

I will not solve the maze, I will cut it down and climb above.

I will not fight the army, I will call it off.

For the real battle is to learn, and to grow,

Until we have the skills and the knowledge

to stop the battle itself.

And to never start it again.

This is the next step for humanity.

The future of each of us and all of us.

Inside and out.

And we can do it.