He sits in an office in his capitol
sorting through what needs to be done.
He makes the hard decisions that take their toll
on the way to victory won.
He’s an old man now whose job is to wage war.
His hands in the fight are others:
young people who believe what they’re fighting for.
They are all his sons, his daughters.
Like the ancient war god, he must sacrifice:
put his hand in the monster’s maw.
But he makes his strikes upon the brute precise
to mostly avoid tooth and claw.
He tries to find ways to chain or kill the beast,
but its heads are many and fierce.
It devours itself and all at its feast,
but grows new hearts and heads to pierce.