The Silent General
Reflection
In the quiet shadow of command, a soul stands tall,
A sentinel of duty, a guardian of the fall.
His gaze, a storm of steel, yet soft with the weight of years,
A silent witness to the battles he's seen and the scars he bears.
The uniform speaks of honor, a testament to time,
Each fold, a chapter in the epic of his climb.
His face, a canvas of history, etched with lines of resolve,
A mirror reflecting the world he's fought to un-foul.
The cap, adorned with stars, a symbol of his might,
Yet beneath it, a heart that knows the cost of light.
He stands as a beacon, a lighthouse in the storm,
Guiding the lost, a silent general of form.
In his eyes, the world's reflection, a tapestry of pain and gain,
A reminder that strength is not just in the reign,
But in the quiet moments when the soul must stand alone,
To find the courage to lead, to be the silent general of stone.