Glorious Patriarch
Your pain for glory is insufferably visible. It's like a cracking damn; the water seeping through the seams like sand through your fingers. As distinguishable as fire raging and fueled by winds cradling the licks of flames. It's tender to hold it in, ignoring that there is burning in your roots. To pretend like there are no thunderous waves crashing behind your avoiding eyes. Like the men before you; glory was found in strength and bravery. But strength and bravery are traits only found in combat. And so, with the yearning of those prestigious badges you go to war... war with yourself... and war with the world. Your tactic? The fierce water against your sturdy earth. You assemble it so secure, the small fissures are now dry. So you shake yourself bare as well. For the fire; you contest it with your own breath. Expelling your chest as much as your human body will allow. But the flames soar higher. In a final desperate attempt for your victory you breathe deeply. Swallow...