the wounded general

the General was strong and formidable, with fiery eyes unclouded by questions. the General strode with purpose and loud clanging footsteps. there was no barrier too great, everything was easily won or clarified with an attitude of possession. the entire world lay at the General's feet, simplified and small. until the day that everything changed. the weapon was sharp, and pierced with skill. the General crumpled and fell and felt blood pour from a wound, sensed the dusty ground drink in the blood that poured from the wound. the earth took this blood, taking with it strength and pride, till the General passed into darkness. much time passed thus, for the wound was deep and in a place near to the heart. the General asked the sun on awakening, "is this what is left of my life? to cower and shake and feel so uncertain?"  the sun looked down to where the General sat with knees drawn in, and replied, "it is time to learn that there is more to the battle than winning, more to this life than success. your journey will be long, your profit ephemeral. when you look at your hands, they may hold nothing more grand than the air. this is what it is to be human." and when the General rose to face the fierceness of day, weakness and doubt were newly planted where savage aggression had been, with footstep still shaking with relief of survival. so the General became the Wounded General, a reflection of uncertainty and sincerest hope for the future, never taking and always searching, healing slowly with life's heavy toil.