No One Mourns the Field

Hooves dig deep into the mud. A once beautiful field is now trodden underfoot. Disregarded. It is no longer simply a field.

Its a field of battle.

Steel rattles with the trembling bodies of the young soldiers. Chain mail jingled with each horse's step. No amount of training had truly prepared them for the brutality of war. Were their swords sharp enough? Were their shields strong enough? Was their armor thick enough? Could the captain actually get them through this?

Across the field, the enemy waits. They had dug up the ground and had entrenched themselves in the earth. The once beautiful field again suffers at the hands of war. No one mourns the field, because it will be restored. At the sighting of their enemy, they prepared their weapons and now lie waiting for the opportune moment to strike.

Back on the other side, the army is growing in numbers and assembling. Their captain rides to the front. He says nothing, but his eyes meet every soldier's and they know its time and that he will fight to the death for them. He turns, raises his sword and charges. His army follows. The sound of hoofbeats is a loud thunder upon that field. Soldiers look to each other with the wind of movement on their faces. In the movement of the charge, blue denim can be seen through the creases of their armor. In the stirrups of the saddles, Chuck Taylors rise in eager suspense. Below their breastplates, black t shirts with band names printed across serve as their coat of arms. In the front, men in suits ride forth, experienced and skilled in battle. In their stirrups, leather shoes whose tassels are flying back in the wind. These men are prepared to lay down their lives in sacrifice so that those further behind can go further and win the war. Behind them ride the young soldiers. With swords by their sides, they draw their own weapons. While riding forth, they carry acoustic guitars, cameras, paintbrushes, Macintosh computers, banjos, baseball bats, soccer balls, Wiimotes, hammers, frying pans, fondue pots, electric guitars, love letters, light kits, borrowed books, iPods, mops, brooms, DVDs. These are their weapons. Each item empowered by the sword at their side. They ride on to meet their enemy.

Many fall.

But in the end, those who trust their captain to get them through succeed.

The field will be beautiful once again.