by Jonathan Thorogood

Created on: July 18, 2009

In the eyes of the niggardly damsel I am only average,
But I care not of the shrouded thoughts of that womanly savage,
That seeks the arrogant and basely strong,
Seducing with boorish tales and ulterior song,
And abhor the gentle as the weak,
Those swift to compassion and unhurried to speak,
However, compare not their mediocrity to mere men,
For as the mighty beasts they are far from worldly sin,
Like the stalwart bear, that berserker chieftain who slumbers in the darkest den,
And the lordly eagle, that golden avian king that surges through the clouded skies,
Or the great lion, that maned herald who casts forth its thundering cries,
And finally like the exalted stag, that oaken pronged prince who rules the sacred wood,
They muse upon righteousness and truth, the mother and father of Good,
These are the virtues of those that dare to be average,
And do not fall prey to the belief of the savage.

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