He wants to believe in it

always,
because it is woven into his
being,
instilled by innocent songs
sung in kindergarten circles,
and brave veterans speaking
on warm days in late May.
It's an almost mystical
presence in his mind,
the vessel he's on in the
ocean of humanity,
his home, his hope, part of the very
definition of himself.
When he saw those who had chosen
to fall rather than burn
on that beautiful late summer day,
he loved the others on the ship
even more than he ever had before,
and wore its flag with
fierce, tribal pride.
So part of him dies
inside when he hears
of the night horrors
being done in the name
of keeping him "safe",
because he needs to know
that his brethren not only
can win, in brute, raw firepowered
displays backed up by
the timeless courage of
the warrior,
but that what they will win
will still be worth having.