In Gaul's quiet fields, I till the land,
A centurion once, in Rome's grandstand,
From battles fierce and legions grand,
To a farmer's life, a simpler stand.
Fate, a fickle mistress, had its say,
In battles lost and victories gray,
Systems built Rome's might and sway,
Not just the leaders of the day.
Ambition burned in youthful hearts,
In service, playing many parts,
Yet greatness, a collective art,
Where soldiers' strength did play its part.
Barriers faced, each man his own,
From far-off lands to Rome well-known,
In legions formed of diverse clay,
A shared purpose, come what may.
Yet not all paths were paved the same,
Some bore burdens, others fame,
Fate's fickle hand did cast its lot,
In fields of war, their destinies wrought.
Opportunities by fortune's hand,
Greatness scattered across the land,
In systems built by Rome's own might,
Some found the day, others the night.
Roman values shaped my quest,
Honor, duty, in my chest,
Leadership put us to the test,
In Antony's ranks, we gave our best.
Greatness shifts, in fate's embrace,
Individual and collective trace,
In Gaul, I find my humble place,
Reflecting on Rome's grandiose chase.
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