Hope

The fruit of success,
Is like a game of chess,
The more he thinks,
The lesser he blinks.

But life is no game,
And this acceptance is no shame.
The joy of the soldier,
Is not in the eyes of the beholder.

Waiting to impress the maiden,
To accompany to the Eden,
The soldier embarks his quest,
Unarmed in his chest.

Journey is not arduous,
As the end is joyous,
Is the haven of hope,
that pushes him like an ethereal dope.