I am only ever battling with the present moment.
My striving, my hoping, my imaginations that the future will hold a more perfected version of myself, are the skirmishes.
The war was long. I bargained for peace, I fought viciously with the armies through the mirror, but now I see I will never be more myself than I am in this moment. I see that the battles never, ever had two sides.
I can polish the outer until it shines brightly, but until I stop fighting, until I stop blocking this moment from expressing itself as Life itself, I will not be the source of that shining.