To keep a standing army is to tacitly
acknowledge that you have divided
the world into haves and have-nots and
must now employ an enforcer class
to tend to your long division.

And how slow you are to realize, if ever
you see it at all, that your army is your
albatross, the apparition of good fortune
that you slay over and again, until all
who can guide you home are gone.

Face your fate, now, the one worse than
death: the weight of your army bearing
on your back, the burden of tending the
tenders, and the fear in the eyes of all
who share your boat.

For they know that you are the devil and
that you are surely mad as you assure them
in your way that the devil does indeed
know how to row.