This is the chapter of spiritual warfare, the quiet, unrelenting kind that takes place within the heart. In The Souls Crusade, Rita Marie examines the holy ache of existing: of trying, failing, and still hoping. With poems like Senescence and Emptiness, she lays bare the paradoxes of healing; how growth can still feel like grief, and how love, even when present, can feel out of reach. This is a confessional altar, a sacred reckoning with purpose, perception, and the pain of carrying love that goes unseen. There is anger here, sorrow, and surrender. But there is also a plea, a prayer, to find meaning in the disorder, and to trust that even blood-soaked soil can still bloom.