"Through the desert of beauty"

Battling my way through a valley of fire,

my heart pumps at the speed of drums.
Like a general, sword in hand,
leading the battalions into the battlefield;
my spirit shakes into the abysm of her eyes.
Once again the lion faces a swan.

Much fearsome than a thousand wolves,

the Lion loses his power at the beauty of the living grace.
Demons and angels around him,
giving him mixed words of strenght and weakness.
Making him doubt of his own existance,
making him doubt about his own faith.

With the heart in his throat,

as if his soul is ready to leave his shaky body;
The beast steps into the battlefield of her eyes.
Not knowing what to expect,
cold beads of sweat run down his over stressed face.

Claws out, fangs ready, pulls out his battle roar.

Half weak, commending his soul to the creator,
launches himself into the valley of comfrontation.

"Father, in your hands I commend my spirit.
I just ask for the strength to do your will and not mine."