Battlefield of the Mind
Standing in the battlefield of my heart and mind, clad in ill-fitting armor of my own smithing, I have toed the line with ferocious, unforgiving Giants. I have faced my enemies awkwardly outfitted with my shield of Pride, and my breastplate of Self-righteousness, holding in my hand a dinky, dull sword--not unlike a child's play thing--my sword of Shame. I clamored and clattered forward to fight my foe, missing the mark with each swipe of my weapon. As I lay bleeding, with a heart smashed to smithereens, a horn sounds, and the Lord of Heaven's Armies is at my side. His armor is impenetrable, his sword could halve the earth like a machete to a melon. His attack is always sound, always successful. At once, my armor is forged from heavenly metal, gleaming and shining and perfectly tailored. The Helmet on my head says I am His, the Shoes on my feet leave the imprint of freedom, my heart behind the breastplate beats like new, the Sword in my grip whispers and shouts Truth with every thrust and parry, every blow. We fight together, each Giant falling, failing, one by one. Fear is dead. Jealousy is dead. Regret is dead. Anger is dead. Impatience is dead. And as I stand over them, my mouth opens to declare victory: it is His voice booming from my chest, "Invictus maneo. I remain unvanquished".