All we know of gallantry
Is shining mail and greave
We forget the altar vigil
Lonely on the knighting’s eve
Every shape we think we see
We only see it stop
Like the ocean; despite great depths
We only see the top
I sing the Tomolog’s graces
For I sing of what’s inside
That solid core of chivalry
Where the devil cannot hide
So keep your thin topology
Your world of hollow shells
Your brief façade of beauty
Over multilayered hells
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1 comment:
Beneath the surface, there, lies a solid foundation of truth.
If only the kneeling were done after the "knighting" - and then only in praise, glory and thanks.
Well done.
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