The Sun rises. Its rays reach us and we leave bed.

How am I at this moment? Am I awake?

And if I am, what I woke up to then?

I like days in which I stumble with a clear goal.

It does not matter if it is sunny outside or storms,

nor if my body aches, neither if I am alone.

I rush into the battle field, itching to get there first.

Open my eyes to the fire and the smoke.

A strategy is in my mind (it came up to me in a dream).

Evaluating loses and gains, I consult with my soldiers,

carefully listening to them, looking at their expressions,

learning what they do not say in their words.

They expect me to have an answer, and I am condemned

to comply with their expectations.

After all, did I want to be their Commander?

Life is a tango, and I dance it not because I choose to live

but because I am choosing now to stay alive.

I tell them my plan (although I do not tell how it came to me).

It satisfies them. It energizes them that I care

for them, for our war, for all that we have in common

even we are so distant from each other,

even we are so different. All is set in place.

Details of the plan are discussed and communicated

to the lower ranks in accordance with the rules.

The processes follow their own logic, and now

I do not control them. I only set the mechanism in motion

and wait. I remember to wind up my watch.