Goodness: Powerful or Problematic?

Prior to my in-depth study of Cicero's "Pro Archia Poeta" in my Latin elective, I read the following quote from Cicero's perspective on the idea of goodness:

Goodness, then, is such a powerful thing that we love it even in people we have never seen, and, more remarkable still, even in those who have been our enemies in war.

 -Cicero, Laelius: On Friendship

For the Classical Association of New England's Student Writing Contest, I researched, wrote, and submitted this poem in response to Cicero's words. CANE recently notified me that I produced the winning poem of the contest in the Outside-of-New-England category! See my poem below to confront goodness in the context of war, following Cicero's acknowledgement of goodness' positive and negative potential.

Like the Great Fire of Rome,

I am Goodness,

The incendiary force

That masquerades as the heart

Of Cicero’s pen.

The Stoics predict that

Fire consumes the world.

A fire that can render itself

As its red counterpart: love.

I am a Protean shapeshifter

Because I am goodness,

The great equalizer of enemies.

The allies attack;

The opposition retreats,

But I dawn on both sides:

It is morally reprehensible to kill,

Yet it is morally commendable to hold one’s guard.

It is better not to acquaint with the ones whom you respect.

Idyllic and ideal,

The billowing curtain of my goodness blows

Not fast enough to reveal what it hides: truth.

The conflagration ensues.

Crackling combustion,

Intense inferno,

Flame.

In War we love,

In Battle we trust,

And at Home we build

In the name of mine: goodness.

Feigned friendships among foes

Enlists my moral service.

I profess rectitude and respect,

But Cicero’s statement spurs recklessness

To secure myself in my rightful place:

Good until bad. Even I digress.

I am unity until I disintegrate

I am reason until I waver

I am goodness until

Good people do bad things.

Dichotomies are our downfall.

I can be extinguished at any moment,

Situated on my precarious perch,

Visible to my fiercest observers:

Patience, tolerance, and forgiveness,

All of which wait to topple me in my tracks.

The power which I have been bestowed

Is a cloak which overshadows the push

That each virtue exerts in their own capacity.

I feel displaced but I am the displacer

I am plastered on the superlative pedestal.

I am sequestered from my amicita

With the aforementioned observers who sink in my exaltation.

Fire begets water.

“All good things come to an end.”