I laugh at them. I always have, I always will.
They stand and take abuse that thier hulking form cries out for. Why? They could easily crush the aggressor. They tower over thier shriveled diminutive forms as if they were nothing more than flecks of feces. The giants are a wall, they are strong but not invunerable. When their reserve breaks they come crashing down like great towers of stone. They are no more. They cannot rebuild themselves.
I'm not a giant. Just a man. I am ultimately weak and feeble. I walk upright... sometimes. Other times I crawl on my belly like the beasts. But I can always stand back up. My will can be shattered. It will remain that way for a time, then it will grow back together, using the mud and gunk that I wallowed in while I was broken. Does it make me stronger? It allows me to stand again. While I walk renewed, others will take notice, including the giants. Someone will hate me for it, perhaps myself, and crush me again. I will go on like this till I die.
Those of us who are men are always in a hurry. The giants just stand there, but we men are always rushing. To where? To be crushed again perhaps. Or maybe we're looking to find a weakness around the enemies defenses. Trying to find a way through. Some do. I haven't, but some do. These lucky few, they are no longer in the battle. They are not immune they just don't allow themselves to break apart. While I'm bleeding in the battlefield, these invincible enigma's are taking the bullets of the enemy with stride and a smile. Sometimes they are pulled back in. When this happens they shatter. It takes longer for them to rebuild, and the never walk without a limp afterward. It's hardest to see those who've left the field be pulled back in, for most of us it's as good as being shattered ourselves.
Giants are the wall, but they fall. It's up to us to win the battle.
posted by F.G. Shaw @ 3:15 AM
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