Armed with knowledge
Of his past, his family,
And that which he loves.
Yet, when I look into his eyes at that confrontation,
I realize that the arms I brought are useless.
We are so much more than our passions
And our pursuits.
We aren’t always thinking
Of what to write next.
Or how to solve that math problem.
Or how to find the North Star.
Sometimes, we just watch
As someone else changes the world for us.
Sweat dripping from our foreheads
As we toil at our daily jobs.
From the things that we don’t love,
We fight for the things that we do.
Yes, these also define us.
Shaping our lives.
He lives to fight another day,
While I, puzzled, look on.
I lack the understanding
That cannot be had.
