Sometimes, warriors most difficult battles occur in their very inside. Sitting in the forest, heading south and holding padmasana He prepares to face his deepest demons. It's been a long way, he thoughts, and today we die together.
While the wind blows his long and shabby hair, he takes a deep breath. The air starts to fill his lungs, his muscles, and as he holds the breath he raises his hands and join them making a fountain shaped form. Slowly, he breathes out a dense black coloured fluid that falls into his hands. Frightened, the warrior inhale again but all what comes from his inside is corrupted.
It's been a long way, he toughts again, while his breathes starts to get faster and shallowed. He feels that his lungs can't resist, that he's suffocating, but he focus on his frown and closes his eyes. After a while, he open his eyes again and sees that now long, thin and silver air is flowing from his mouth. As he looks down he realizes that his hands are overflowing with the strange and shiny essence. In it's reflection, he saw her, he saw the pain. Furiously shaking his body he raises his hands again and connect them with the infinite. He takes a long breathe and after he exhales, he falls unconscious.
The forest voice, slowly carrying the sky draindrops, caress his naked back.
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