The Conquest of Self

Of all the battles that have ever been fought,
Of all the weapons that have ever been wrought,
I care for but one.

Of all the victories that have ever been there,
Of all the miseries that have ever thrown a snare,
I do care for only one.

And yet there were countries devastated,
In the names of religion, terrorism, or even sheer wealth.
And there were millions - homeless or dead, trillions of untold rapes.
Gasping masses in concentration camps, legalized murders on garrotes or guillotines.

And still, I do care, for but one!

For the one that is still unfought,
For the one that is nearly unthought,
For the one that shines ahead,
For the one that gropes for its tread.

All the well can come of it,
Hope and mercy, with truth beneath.
Love and glory will twine your way,
As you stride the paths of May.
Near and dear gets far enough,
Paltry becomes the bigot trough.
Spring will forth your inward elf,
As it concurs mighty self!