The Philosophy of Socrates: Part XIII
A Soldier's Struggle
--Socrates strolls past a small military encampment, as he's walking Socrates takes note of a soldier quietly weeping by a stone wall--
Hello...Can I ask you what is wrong soldier...your weeping is almost disturbing...the sadness is trembling the earth around us,
Is it because of the many wars you have fought against your own heritage...your neighboring city-state?
Maybe it's the violent way you sent your enemies to their creators?
You old man would never understand...my life is filled with horrors...nightmares of lies and deceitful regrets,
The world crashes in on my soul to help re-distribute the emotional turmoil my life has caused countless others,
Do you not see me...a fearless soldier...fearing his own sadness...The Gods laugh at my cowardly ways as of now.
Do you truly believe the Gods look down upon you...your life having revolved around death?
The bolt of the Great Zeus has not striped you yet...am I right?
Do you not see that your function in this world is the population control for the Gods to continue their plentiful harvests unchallenged?
My fellow friend...my stranger of peaceful accords...please realize that tears are what words can't explain...a admittance of your life as a whole,
Know that you need not fear the tears of river's flow...the waterfalls of salty naturalization...crowds of people know your emotional struggle.
I can not believe you old one...your words mean nothing to a war veteran...I need my time to come to an end...I feel no more remorse,
The walls have closed around me...the realization of past scars will always follow my emotional skin like razors in the flesh,
Speak no more to me old man...I wish to weep in peace...my life is of no more glory...no satisfaction will come of this anymore.
--Socrates digs into his left pocket of his draped clothing, pulling a carved bird made from a rare kind of wood, obsidian stone for eyes, dyed green, yellow and blue, placing the priceless bird in front of the soldier--
My dear friend...take this...if nothing else please remember that nature has inflicted as many wounds as you,
The only thing this bird asks of you is to accept life for what it is...colorful and full of emotional vibrations of both happiness and sadness,
Will you just sit here and cry for pity...or do you stand up for your right to live beside others as equals...do you want this?
Must I pull you to your feet...will you stab me if I try...let my hand guide yours as you rise from your tearful ashes.
--Socrates takes the soldier by the hand, and with ease, the soldier gets to his feet, Socrates touch somehow changing him--
Who are you...Why do you treat me good for my mistreatment of you...Do you see right through my guise?
My cuffs have magically shattered...those depressing links of shameful recollections...remorse will not bound me again,
Thank you for your kind words citizen...May I ask your name oh humble servant of the Gods?
--Socrates does not answer, but simply bows and motions his goodbye, one foot after another as he walks down the path he originally sought, another heart touched.--
Check out the entire series from the start
- The Philosophy of Socrates: Part I
Part I of a series of poems in light of Socrates good deeds and works. This particular poem is based on the lesson of keeping your voice heard.
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