Old Man Beneath the Cave

I met a wise old man last night
deep in a cave
a bunker that looked surprisingly weak
but it wasn't. For he sipped tea beneath it all
I knew how to find him,
only because I was loosing a war
But he told me why I had to be fighting
and why I wasn't winning, and shouldn't
though I knew my cause was just, my enemies cruel
but we'd never learn any other way
what cruelty was, and how to foster it
what justice is, and how to foster it
I forgot most of what he said
If I sought the man's face,
I might have never have found it.
This is how these things work
But the fading emotion, the eloquence
nag me throughout the day