In the shadow realm of the practical,
a foolish notion often seems so grand:
and every errant knight that takes a stand
against the wind, not so intractable
that their quest for simple truth comes to nil,
believes in the reconciliation
of opposites, in true revelation
that results from trusting your own free will.
In the bright lit realm of dreams, however,
these impetuous jousts become holy,
and the poor fool’s armor, a fiery shield;
There, battle is not won by the clever,
but by the soul whose purpose is wholly
alive, and despite all, will not yield.
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