Risen

It was not about winning. Neither was it about pride nor glory. The future was pushed back to oblivion and the past had raced way ahead. Nothing was at stake here. There was no question hanging in the air either. It just had to be either way – black or white! No mid-way!

His feet pranced on the ground beneath his feet. His hands didn’t tremble this time as his fingers clasped the cold handle. They had before when he had come across such confrontations but not this once, not at all. The aura of his presence emancipated confidence - the kind a person has when ignorance of the entirety around takes full control of the senses and it overpowers one to the extent that one knows nothing, sees nothing, and thus, has the power to believe everything!

Another step forward and they bowed before each other, never taking their eyes away. The cold rage in his eyes was the purpose and the cause of what the thousand pairs of eyes were to witness. Those eyes, their voices, their multitude thoughts about the righteousness were as distant from him as were his own senses from this cosmos. The sound of the sword when pulled out told him – This is IT! He had just one thought on his mind – To Slay! Whatever is to come up ahead, whatever is to obstruct his way, whatever his sword could make contact with. This thought brought him the kind of power he had only heard stories of as a child. What was he out there for? Because he was there, because he had chosen to, because it was unto him, because he just had to do it, was he The One?!

The swords struck each other twice each demonstrating its power to the other. The third time, the flesh gave away as the blade made it’s way through, testing the extents of their will and frenzy. Gasps followed by silence filled the air. Would the battle choose its victor or would the mind prove that there is no duality – that there actually is no battle that hails one and shames the other. There could only be one, The One?!

“As art thee – Reflections!”