In this moment I have forgotten everything that makes me more then lance, sinew, bone and muscle.
I am my training.
I am the stinking sulphur-breath of a two thousand stone flying lizard.
I am the open black lipped rotten tooth maw.
I am the slick mist and wet stone.
The chill in the wind.
The dying day.
The rising grey tide of night.
I am more then the searing pain of fiery death.
I am more.
A warrior.
A life forfeit.
A moment in time, a snippet of lust, a lunge, a rasping breath, a broken body, a dying ember.
I am the ideal, a fleeting glory, a forgotten myth.
I am champion.
In this moment I serve only as savior.
( ART: “Against all odds – oil on canvas – 20×24 by: By Brit Martin
Stories 
