One
desires rest,
While
the other cannot find love;
Struggling
within himself,
Is
peace a fleeting dove?
Purposed
for a plan,
He
goes his own way;
Seeking
out his path,
To
find the final day.
Turmoil
he battles,
As
brothers in the field;
No
victory,
But
in the sword he wields.
Caution
besets him,
In
his dying breath;
No
life of meaning,
Except
upon his death.
Do
we bare this fate,
A
warrior without a soul?
Or
is love hanging,
Prepared
before us like a pitcher and a bowl?
Christ
was the answer,
Rejected
without cause;
But
He still offers us His hand,
In
upward applause.
Selah 
A Warrior Without A Soul by Ronhales Romans 7:13