In the cold of an early spring morning, the sun breaks through the horizon of a new day. A low fog hangs about the encampment of the Light White Warriors.
The battle between good and bad seems endless. The generations of battle have taken its toll on the mind, body and spirit, but each warrior, no matter what side he or she is on, is dedicated to its own cause.
In the break of light from the sun, on a hill overlooking the camp sight is a single lone warrior. He stands there looking down at the encampment. He studies each tent and remembers each warrior that lives in them. He remembers how each came under his command. His trust in God and the spirits have led him to this day. His heart is saddened with the knowledge that somehow today is different from all the rest. His eyes touch each tent in loving remembrance, until he comes upon his own tent, where his wife lies sleeping.
His mind drifts to the night before. In great loving embrace they had stayed within the walls of their tent all of the day and through the night. She stayed close to him, as if she knew something was about to happen. He had felt it too, but was unsure about what the feeling could be. The peace at this encampment was strange as the warriors seemed to go about the day as if the worries were over. Everyone seemed to be happy.
The quiet serenity was felt by everyone and there was only love this day. The commander watched his people and took great delight in the sights he saw. From the mightiest warrior to the smallest child, they seemed like a huge family full of great love and peace.
His greatest joy came at the sight of his wife preparing that nights dinner. He positioned himself so he could watch her every move. Her long brown hair waved about like the soft wind through the trees. Her robe followed the line of her body like his gentle hand had done so many times. They had been without child, until two months ago, and the life that was growing inside of her filled his heart with great pride and love for this woman, for she was a warrior also. They had fought long and hard, and the commander knew God had granted this couple the best gift of all.
His vision was that this child would teach him how to heal the scars of battle.
Not much was said between them that day, for words lacked the power to express what they were truly feeling. That night, the love and passion they experienced was like no other.
In the early morning, they settled to a loving quiet and lay in each others arms, hoping to keep what they felt throughout the day and night. For her there was fulfillment and peace, but a sadness was creeping into his heart. It was almost daybreak before she had fallen asleep. The warrior slid himself from under her body, for he knew it was time to go. He stood at the foot of their bed, studying everything about her. The flow of her hair, and the lines of her body, and the slightly extended belly where the child was growing. His heart ached knowing somehow that he may never see his wife again, nor the birth of his child.
The pain from this memory drew a tear from his eye, and his thoughts returned to the top of the hill where he was now standing.
His great love for the people in the encampment prompted him to draw his sword from his scabbard. Grasping the handle with both hands, he raised it high over his head and with the great power of the warrior, he thrust it into the ground. With a rigid vibration, the sword stood alone. The warrior then took his shield and hung it on the sword. The warrior wanted to mark this place. Not as a grave for a fallen warrior, but as a marker for the great unconditional love he had given and received from the people resting in the quiet, peaceful valley.
One more time he looked about the tents, then he turned and led his mount by its reins into the forest. After a short walk, he mounted the steed. The sadness was fading and a peace was overtaking his spirit.
The sun was warming the coolness of the night and wildlife was slowly coming alive. There was a solemness to all the things around him. He knew it was connected to what the spirits were leading him to.
He began to disrobe his armor. He pulled the helmt from his head, and let it fall to the ground. Then came his chest plates, his arm guards, and on and on, until all he wore were the clothes beneath his armor.
After a long peaceful ride, the forest emptied into a desert. At the edge of this desert, he dismounted his horse, and began removing the saddle and armor from the steed. When this was finished, the warrior tried to send the horse back to camp, but the horse had been in many battles with its master and wanted to go with him again. It was love for the animal that the warrior grasped a limb from the ground and hit his horse to send him back into the forest. From a small hilltop the horse watched his master walk into the desert. The heat from the sun was intense, but the warrior forced himself forward to a destiny that was not clear, even to himself.
The spirits had led him here, and he was now truly in their trusting hands. The only comfort to him were the memories of the people he had left behind and the help of the spirits that he felt were still with him.
The walk and the heat of the sun took his physical strength to an all time low, but night was soon upon him, bringing the most welcome relief to him and the land. By the campfire, the loneliness was overwhelming but soon he was asleep. His sleep was broken by the cry of a coyote in the distance. He sat up and moved closer to where his fire had died to only embers. They still held enough heat to warm his cold hands. His own mind was void of thought. The silence was too much to bare. Casting his head and eyes toward the heavens he yelled, "If you have brought me here for a reason, let it be known to me now!"
No voice spoke and no thought came. As he lowered his head, his eyes caught the horizon where he saw the edges of a canyon. He decided to set out for this canyon.
It was midday when he arrived there. The red furnace of the sun was burning more than it had the day before, and again his strength was vaporizing.
He came into the entrance of the canyon. The canyon was a huge circle of stone walls that rose high above his head. This place looked as if all the pain of the world, all the anger, and all of the negativity of life was born here and went into the world from here.
The canyon floor was covered by sand and in the center of this canyon was a small tree. As the warrior walked towards this poor, painfully twisted tree, he saw that its struggles were long and hard from its enviroment, but as he drew closer he saw one small green leaf. Then came the realization that this tree had a great deal in common with himself. That one leaf represented the only strength he had left on this day, and the twisted branches represented the battles of his life. A strange calm came over him and he turned to face the dark warrior.
The dark one and his mount stood blocking the entrance of the canyon. The light white warrior stood tall and strong, his faith in God and in the spirits that had brought him here was stronger than ever. If he was to die today, then so be it!
He waved to the dark one to come forward. This enraged the dark one, and he charged with great force, knocking the light white warrior to the ground.
The dark one turned his horse to see the damage he must have surely caused only to see the light white warrior stand and wave him forward again. His eyes flared with the fire of the sun, his horse reared in anger and hatred. The dark one pulled his lance and charged again. The light white warrior watched the point of the lance coming toward him and pierce his chest. The warrior fell to the ground and from the wound came a flame that engulfed the warrior's body. The dark one turned to see the prize of his deed, only to see the spirit of the light white warrior rise out of the flame, like the Phoenix from its ashes.
The dark one's rage reached new heights. He drew on all the dark side he could muster and charged again with sword in hand. The sound of horse hooves echoed in the canyon like thunder. The light warrior's spirit watched the dark one charge, and pulling the lance from his burning body, he raised the lance to pierce the dark one's heart. The dark one fell from his mount and, like the light warrior, a flame shot from his wound. The spirit of a white warrior rose from the flame.
The spirits of the two warriors met at the twisted tree, and both touched its branches. The tree came to life and the yellow roses of unconditional love came forth in great number.
The one who had been called the dark warrior asked, " My brother, what have we done here today? "
Not a word was spoken, but at that moment the knowledge of what they had become was clear to both spirits.
For the two warriors, there was no more questions. For here, on earth, we seek answers that bring us more questions. I tell you that what we truly seek are questions, not answers : for the answers will come. So seek the questions until you have no more questions.