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inner Lords of Flame

I have stole like


darkness in the night,
my honour, to the lesser
lords of Life;
Spake thus, the little me’s reply . . . –
when I, reflected – on my plight.

But hail, O winged Stallions of the Sun


whose armour, O Helios I have won.
Spoke thus, dear solar Angel to the Gods,
instead, deceiving servants, court of death.

Though true death, is naught the slayer of the real;


For those who choose to die that fiery hearts of men, might live:
And so, be thus . . . as inner LORDS OF FLAME . . . – OURSELVES.

© Stephen Thane 1990, revised 2010