Recently, I was charging forward, as the bull toward the matador, minus the rage.
Heading toward a destruction I was unaware of, blinded.
I left discernment behind, waving to me in the rear view mirror, whispering “No!”
Deceit erupted from the volcano that looked dormant. It grabbed my hand again, and slew me across the molten rock.
Suddenly, I was aware of my surroundings, and the reason for being there.
It was necessary, it was all necessary so that I would halt.
My eyes had to see the true colors. My eyes weren’t objective enough in any other circumstance.
I doubted the power that was gifted to me.
I jumped off of the trap, and ran.
Once I was back at the well, drinking the living water, I had clarity.
Life was vibrant again.
The bull, exhausted, rested by the matador. A red cape was placed on the bull. The fight was over.
Good always wins, even when no one can see the battle.