Enough

    The wall is covered with thorns, Sleeping Beauty's living thorns that resist a prince who shoves his right hand deep into them, intent on unlocking the legend-woman that is his purpose, his life's blood, his reason for being. Sometimes he doesn't know why or even if he's here, and he wanders from battle to battle wondering to himself, " How do I know I'm real? How can I be sure? Is it enough that I ask for water and my squire responds, that I strike with my sword and men fall and die? What if it's all a ruse, an elaborate fake to trick me into believing that I am? But doesn't that mean that I am?"

    He picks up his sword once more and strikes at the thorns that tear through the armor on his arms and chest. So he swings at the dragon that was once a loving god mother, pushes through the bramble, ignoring the heat of her flame. He pushes through the smoke and sulfur that burn his mouth and eyes. For now the thorns and the dragon give way and that is enough.