Poets are fools and the jesters of Love.
Deceived by Cupid, they weave words into
Illusions stretching to the stars above,
For his intent, thought pure, leads men askew;
Love's gilt, seeming gold, has been stripped away
By sonneteers' tales of disguis'd lust,
And hearts – once immortal – now broken, lay
Hollow as promises crumble to dust;
Lyrics penned at passion’s fiery birth
Melt away, revealing concupiscent
Lies; and all our vows of Heaven and Earth
Burn to ash in flames fueled by discontent.
Oh, be thou prepared to defend thy heart
When poets swear devotion in their art.
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