In the
field of battle,
that is
the Christian life.
Many lie
wounded,
just clinging to life.
Their
battles were not,
of bombs
or guns.
But
battles lost in the spirit,
to unholy
one's.
As the
smoke rises,
from the
field of war.
Some lie
dead,
while many
lie tore.
Some
wounds were inflicted,
by evil
ambushes from behind.
While
others fought carelessly,
trusting
only their mind.
Warriors
lie wounded to the point,
that their
mission is now incomplete.
Reduced to
a causality,
though
their hearts still beat.
Their
faith wounded,
Now they lie, as lifeless as death.
Willing to
lie on the field,
until
final rest.
Wound's of
ones spirit,
heals not,
like the skin.
For these
wounded warriors,
are
wounded within.
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