A thousand gales to fetter me,
A thousand waves to frighten me,
A thousand swords to pierce me,
A thousand mouths to obloquy me;
Seething be the pain,
Soothing be the bane,
Quenching be the blood,
Drowning me the nefarious red flood;
I fear them not,
I dream of the promenade I sought,
Glorious golden path,
Lit up by victory's bath,
Not fate but I me to this destiny brings,
The shimmering glow of my angelic wings,
Soaring high I look back,
Never is a grain of sand where spirit I lack,
The horizon is where shall my miseries entomb,
Draws me to it like the miracle of life within the cosmic womb.
Poetic Injustice --- The myriad me, in myriad ways,
and myriad words, in myriad lays.
To stay, to sway, to the new glory,
to my past allay....
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