Love is not peace. It is not rest. It is the one war I never trained for—the only fight that strips me bare. I’ve faced death with steadier hands than I’ve faced her silence. I’ve held the line in chaos, but it is her absence that wounds deepest. Love is discipline, not desire. It is standing firm when your soul screams to flee. It is the silent oath I renew each day—not for reward, but because I swore it. And a warrior does not break his word, even when no one is watching.
Falling in love is easy. Being in love is natural. Staying in love?
Well... The art of war is not complete without the art of love—for what is worth defending, if not that which we hold in the heart?
“A warrior without love is not truly a warrior—only a man drifting without purpose or existence.”
© Billy