The Philosopher

I fight the war not won with guns;
The battles where the dead are none.
Come fight with me, but not to death.
Come fight with but your thoughts and breath.

My armor is my argument.
My weapon is my word.
No blade upon our battlement;
The sheath shall stay its sword.

I come to make a measure
Not of muscle, nor of might;
I come to raise a reckoning
With what you say is right.

I hear your “should”s and “mustn’t”s,
See your stormy, steady eyes,
And I —
I ask a simple question:

Why?

Why is it that your sentences
Strike down with such conviction?
Perhaps the thoughts you think are true
Are nothing more than fiction.

Show me why your reasoning
Rings truer than my own.
Tell me why the things you say
Should shake me to the bone.

Come fight the war not won with guns;
The battles where the dead are none.
Come fight with me, but not to death.
Come fight with but your thoughts and breath.