The Moment, my only current piece that's metaphorical

"The Moment"

I just woke up. I find myself lying in a pool. Blood, dirt, sweat. It's swirling around my legs. I am in the field. Torn by war and battles fought. Evil surrounds me. I know that now. It seems I had forgotten. They are not men. Beasts. I now see it for what it is. I've forgotten who I am. I have been reigned. Seduced. How did I get Here? Last night...
Those things I did. Those thoughts, those words. Were those mine? No. They're who I was. The veil has been ripped off. Tears begin to dilute the swirling blood. I am broken. I don't recall the wounds or my actions. Wait, no I do. Did I...O God! That knife was in my hand. How did I come to this? I'm not the victim. They didn't do it. I did. I stabbed myself. I hear footsteps. I'm too ashamed to... no.
Ashamed is too easy. Embarrassment is pointless. We all get wrapped up in what others think. I care more about whether or not people realize I'm a fake. And a beast. I've become one of them. That's what my old comrade told me. I care more that he knows I'm fake than that I am fake. That I'm broken. That I can't live without things that are evil. Did that really happen? Did I really begin to fight on the wrong side? Last night... No. My body aches now. My skin is flaking.
* * *
The battle is fierce. Always. Fields that are spread with blood. With fallen souls lying everywhere. Some have always been that way. Others have stood for a while. All have fallen. Circles make up the landscape. Everywhere there are groups of monsters. The only distinguishing feature of the fallen is their position as the center of attention. I am a soldier in an army. Always. So is the reader. So are the those in the lives of the reader. All have fallen.
One race is human. Whole. Far from perfect. But whole. They live as the protectors of those who do not fight, as well as those that do. They combat the monsters. The beasts of self-dom.
All have known the sting of their own blade. All have tasted their own blood, spilled by themselves. This is reality.
Reality. My reality is that I have felt that sting. The heat of blood spilling over the skin. The boiling sensation that is so sweet until the plunge into reality. Yet again. I have stabbed myself yet again. My scars have appeared as though He hadn't healed them at all. Somehow I held on to those scars. I would rather itch those scars than not have them. Even if the pleasure of plunge is wasted by time and overuse, I would rather feel the pain of the scar than give it up. Release is a temporal existence on this field.
Yet again I have fallen into what I felt was just a little better. I forgot His love. How did I forget He had made that scar disappear? How could I forget? I was distracted by the idea that this reality could be better. That I don't have to fight. I can rest. I can feel good. I would rather feel joy than experience it in full. Why? How did that scar appear. I remember...
* * *
Their he was. A monster. A changed being. Changed for the worst. His scars had appeared faster that time. His skin had flaked before he had even cut himself. But I didn't guard against their attack. I was too focused on saving him that I forgot to trust. Trusting His timing and justice. His Love. His Jealousy. Soon, I had a demon of my own, using his hands as a screen showing me my old life. The lie. This world isn't real. I felt my scars begin to burn. I didn't resist. How. All that training. For nothing. But it was a choice. How? Why? These questions are unfathomable. I cannot find reason in a lie. My skin, although staying intact, couldn't protect me. My scars had appeared. My demons had been resurrected. Suddenly they swarmed. Few kept on feeding on one as simple as my comrade. They yearned for pain. They lusted for unappeasable desire. My desire.
* * *
Jesus... Where are you? Why do I go back? Why can't I surrender to your will. Your ability to make me whole. To erase my scars. I lie bleeding here. This blood is like my soul. It is mixed with impurities. It is diluted with grime. My heart is impure. I still strive for an impossibility. Yet you made my pains heal and gave the world existence. The impossible was achieved. I lie here. I see that this pain is something I must give up. Yet is still accessible even now. Even after the countless times when I surrendered.
Footsteps are heard. The mixed blood drifts away as He walks softly closer. The ground defiled and torn becomes grass and garden anew. The wind smells sweet again. How can I go back. "May I kill them?", He speaks. His voice seems to resonate from the air and the ground as much as from His mouth. I still have not looked up. "Shame has no place in my presence. Things are what they are. I have not changed in the time of our parting." Yes, that's true. I still have to learn to live with this debilitation.
"May I kill them?". Yes. Please. This is the release. This is the moment where I choose. My moment. This period where time does not interfere, but returns to the first time. That time when I surrendered my being to One who is able to free me through death. This moment is my reality.
"You may", I breathe out at last. I look up as He thrusts his blade into my chest. Pain worse than before rips through the center of my being. But outwards. I am broken. My skin flakes. I am human again. It hurts less and less as my pain is swallowed by one who cannot be burdened. The monsters try to flee as I get up. My blade is already in my hand. Together the Enemy is vanquished on this hill. I realize yet again that I have more battles to fight; the war goes on, while my Saviour of mercy allows things to become horrible. The circumstances of that moment will be more intense in the coming years. This is my moment. This is my reality. To those who struggle in the Moment: Live your lives as they should be. Do not give into any lie, no matter the size. It is still not big enough to rule the battlefield. And so I challenge you: charge into battle with all the fierceness of God's jealous Love.