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Two Warriors


Two warriors, one with might in his muscle and fire in his eyes and the other with a succulent spirit, met at the cusp of a passing decade.

‘Where are you bound on the turn of the year? You seem very steadfast in your purpose.’ asked one as they crossed each other.

‘Don’t you see? There is too much wrong out there that needs fixing,’ said the other, with a hint of depair. ‘I have rallied all my valour to fight the evils that I see in the world,’ he added, motioning firmly in the open air.

‘That’s an honourable purpose you have, mate. I admire your steely resolve.’

‘And to where have you set off? There’s no sword in your sheathe and you seem sober in your intent. Have you retired from the battle field and become a commoner? If yes, it is a pity. The world needs more of us to set it back in order.’

‘I am a warrior for life. And I don’t quit ever. There’s too much wrong in here that needs fixing. I have rallied all my values to fight the evils that exist in this mortal frame,’ said the other jabbing a finger in his ribs.

‘That’s lofty, I must admit.’

Wishing each other well in the New Year, the two men strode off into the cold night, and the earth beneath their feet quivered under the weight of their dogged spirits.

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