Honor Poem by Ilari Rahja

Honor, pride.
My friend.
Where lies its gain?
Why, my friend?

Do you wish to hide?
Behind such idle words.
When forever hidden lies.
Lacks, true accomplishment.

When, thy vanity.
So blossomed and grew.
Blinded your eyes.
Deafened both ears.

Fully blocked.
Thy brilliance, of mind.
Ability, to discern.
Realize the truth.

To face, its plight.

When prevented.
Blinded was.
My own sight.
When, so tempted.

Foiled all.
That might.
For inaudible.
Became my sense.

Heedless showed, its call.

So I labored.
Further milled about.
Hither and thither.
Mindless, pained and vain.

Missed, my aim.
As neither fault.
Nor any blame.
Can I bear, accept.

Instead, rather darker.
Into depths.
Of self-pity, misery.
My eagerness pulled.

Faith deviously fell.
As vision.
Beliefs and aim.
Were ended.

Cheaply exchanged.
Foolishly mended.
Sold, onto nothingness.
Which I had bought.

Wonder thus, my friend...

Whence those men came.
Who loudly talk.
Play on honor and trust.
Yet, often found wanting.

Lacking, such quality.
While preaching, of service.
Of - Oh!
So noble, a sacrifice!

Proposed to others.
Whose share.
Inevitably bigger.
Ever heavier, must grow.

These impeccable men.
Their own ends doth suffer not.
Too fair, too valuable to us.
They were deemed.

Therefore, wars - We fought.
With other men's children.
Their blood, not ours.
Willingly gave.

Placed upon the altar.
Of honor and pride.
Gladly bellowed.
Praised be courage!

Theirs, I accept.
Withhold my own.

No son, daughter of mine.
Shall face such danger.
Such malice - And hate!
Risk death, injury!

So why then?
Could we not challenge.
Those wanting war.
To be the first in line.

Provide a son, daughter maybe.
Front this might!
Draw the first blood!
Of our sacrifice.

Thus, from fair onto foul.
Such aims became and ended.