SPIRITUAL WARRIOR

The sun’s rays bounced off the peak of the hilltop at first light.

The highland warrior sat in the valley below…

Poised in mediation.

The cold morning dew had settled on his skin, creating a chill; not that he could feel it. He was wired into the natural order around him, honed in on the messages spirit was whispering before battle.

He took a breath and felt the fresh air coursing through the physical specimen of his body. He had trained extensively for the war to come. He had run the hills of the higher lands, carried rocks over the earth and under the sea, sparred to the extent of blood, sweat and tears with every fighting man in his clan; catch wrestling and boxing were the highland codes of combat. He had even mastered weaponry through the slice of the sword and the ping of the bow. Physically, he was so strong, but as he sat in isolation, as he drifted out of space and time in meditation he felt the void of something missing.