Now, thought he, this was the answer
For this king would do all things grand,
This is the solution, said the necromancer
Respect to eschew, another grain of sand.

He had not a name but a number in series,
And when he was called they would bellow.
Drilling and devouring regimental theories,
Maybe life as a hero would never be mellow.

But he made it so with seasoned cunning-
Decorated for bravery, he always excelled.
He found a new role, the war was stunning,
And he saw his glory as never being quelled.

This time I said, “Why did you not see it,
And why are you sad when you speak;
Is that not what life is here for albeit-
How can you make it, if always meek?”

But he asked me to listen for the end was afar,
And a story which he had kept to himself.
“Twas a battle for entry of a door ajar,
Hearken reader, he may refer to thyself.

The enemy attacked with the ultimate weapon.
All was destroyed beyond recognition,
But an unseen ally, one like from heaven,
Brought to them all, a priceless admonition.

His days of fighting were plainly done.
Still he battled again, fooling everyone-
He even fooled himself, the fool has none.
The dream was at an end before it had begun.

He went to the wizard for a better plan.
On entering wiz said, “Suckers are welcome.”
Wizard fooled him with dreams so grand.
He hatched a new plan as each was done.

Thrust into a maze with doors in a haze.
Lights among stars on charts he was learning;
Upon these he even based his peace craze
But he found no less war, just more yearning.

For he fought always with his enemy’s lines
Their shiny new rifle, it always backfired.
He had not learnt, not only gold shines,
And the more they gave, the more he desired.

Love was intense, but was taken on the run,
And one that is physical was all he knew.
Yet when in the foxhole, under the gun-
You seek that love, that starts life anew.