All the poets of all the Kings

with all their fine imaginings

have only ever offered up

the favoured flavour of their sup.

 

with words so lofty, full of grace

persuading of their given place,

that they alone could fill that space.

Emblazoned coin, gods chosen face.

 

While those of us with poets eyes

not blessed with pardons for our lies,

see through the crown to truthful skies

where sunlight strips all earthly guise.

 

Then with our mortal time unspun

we’ll coil our spirit toward the Sun,

to close the round as it begun

where all of matter is as one.