I have no equal it was said for a throne
then in the harem for swords
to the throat.
They talk much of the perfect man
to there make for an idea
of obedience.
They know not that every night
their lives are only spared
for the poets words.
Blind and broken for abandonment,
they make for a mockery of him
but he is the measurement.
For between the crossings of swords
are the men whom for hearth
made the path through. |