The gentle breeze of a brutal afternoon
filled with wars and rumors of war
reminds me of your gentleness
and I am won again.
For you care so little about winning
but instead the sparrow and the lilies
and my own proud heart again deceived
into thinking this is about winning.
When, really, it’s about dying.
Will I ever learn?
The courage to be gentle as this gentle breeze.
The resolve to die even for my enemy.