THOUGHTS ON A STATUE

The commander on his horse
commands the empty air.
The soldiers he once led
are lying long since dead.
His medals are their bones -
his bravery was renown.
They died because he made them fight,
and in this world, might makes right.
This hero on his horse is a splendid sight.
They're on a plinth and cast in bronze,
and passers-by may read his name
and of his deed that brought him fame,
and what they see are sightless eyes,
gazing from an empty head.