Of herd instincts,
Never so worst,
Never so third,
I know,
One man in halo,
Of shining lies,
And swarms of gnats,
Wasps and flies.
Again and again they uprooted his nests,
Never let him hatch,
Never let him rest,
Destroyed his little,
Heap of savings,
Locked his breads,
Flattened his dreams,
Upturned his hopes,
Plucked all his feathers of honour,
And plume of respect,
Blackened his face,
With aspersions.
One day truly
Stripped him naked.
They broke his legs,
And then his hand,
Devils and imps,
the world knows,
The faithfuls,
The peacefuls,
Persecutors in shells,
Of persecuted,
Naming shall end,
All his woes,
His head and pains,
In the glimmer,
of his hopes,
He is heard,
And he squeaks,
In a sanctuary,
The Poet Sanctuary.
