He gears up, readies himself.

String by string, he dons his armor,

piece by piece.

"But why does he need armor?" you ask

He needs it to perform this ultimate task.

 

And so the night pushes on, he is surrounded by the dark.

Most would give in at this point,

give in to the darkness's ever clenching claws

that invite you into such a comforting abyss.

 

He does not though, for he is prepared

the claws of this darkness leave him unphased.

For he has the armor, that sheilds him from the grasp.

He is out to accomplish his ultimate task.

 

He may fall down every now and then, 

but this is no excuse to let the darkness win.

No excuse to let himself be dragged 

into the dark abyss.

 

With the fury of a thousand suns, he gets back up.

He is almost there, for he sees the sun on the horizon.

Though the darkness is pulling

harder than ever before,

but he strides toward, the sunrise's shore.

 

And finally he is there, staring into the light,

he is the one who finished the fight.

The fight against the claws,

against the darkness,

against the comforting abyss.

 

In this instance he looks back,

but not condescendingly.

Instead he now searches to pull those up,

those who have fallen to the dark.

 

How do I know this?

Becasue I am he.

He who fights the darkness,

accomplishes the task,

and finds the light.