A hundred horses hurrying
Straight in your direction
Surely are expected
To make you feel like fleeing.
But is that who you are?
A hundred soldiers screaming
For your downfall
Surely are expected
To make you want to shut up.
But is that who you are?
A hundred swords aiming
For your head
Surely are expected
To make you bow down low.
But is that who you are?
It’s dark.
It’s grim.
It’s nothing but discouraging.
It’s nothing like you dreamt.
So would you run away?
Horses or problems,
Soldiers or opponents,
Swords or plots,
Reel or real,
Do you just give up?
You don’t.
For that’s not who you are.
That’s not what you are made of.
That’s not what they trained you for.
You don’t run away.
You stay.
You stand your ground.
You take out your sword of belief.
And you fight them all.
For it ain’t…
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The sense 