a chink in the armor

It seems I have discovered a chink. Quite a chink. Oh goodness, a whole section of my armor is coming loose. How on earth did I let that happen? I thought it was in such good repair. I polish it often and strengthen it weekly and yet, here I am, exposed!

I was walking about just last month when I felt a warm breeze that pierced my heart and left me breathless. I looked down and there it was, a warm flow of blood running from the new wound. But it was so lovely to look at that I didn't stop it immediately, I liked the feeling of the life running from me into the ground. It was nice to know that I alone was not benefiting from my heart. Finally, I sewed the wound up and scratched my head in wonderment as to what fiend broke my steel and chain. 

Now, weeks later, I found the enemy. A beautiful thing, full of hope and promise. It smelled of pine and spring and newness. It was a flawless many-petaled flower, pleasing in it's shape and face. How could such a thing have caused that red stain? When I picked it, I felt no thorns, no threat, rather I felt myself to be the threatening one. Perhaps that was it, I viewed it as a sweet thing to look upon and savor from time to time and not as a living entity capable of action. 

I put it in a little ball jar on my window, to watch as the sun sparkled on it's leaves and I took off my armor, laid it across the chair, let my hair fall from it's helmet and sat, dressed in vulnerable calico and linen, watching it sway. When I donned my armor the next day, I found the chink and blood. 

Sly little thing, wrecking my strength in my sleep, just like a dream. Oh, but such a precious and lovely thing, that taste of spring. It's worth the loss of sleep, worth the exposure to pain and defeat...

but...that little flower, so green, it doesn't have to fight battles like me.