Blessed be the silver spoons
Which feed us till we’re replete.
Blessed be the dream-filled moons
Which oversee us with glee.
Ambitious, aren’t we?
The moons illume
A thousand seas
And take us to
Places and people unseen.
Vagabonds, aren’t we?
We hold the power to love and seduce,
To ensnare and release
These people and places till insanity ensues,
Till blooming roses fuse into debris.
A bunch of Peithos, aren’t we?
It’s funny how people can read each other like poetry.
We are to some, Gideon, a hero of faith;
And to some, Gideon, an agent of polemics.
A thousand ways to deduce what’s hidden behind our masquerades.
Impostors, aren’t we?