On the governance of self...
Three folks dwelt within, each with splendour and degree:
Bram, with patient reason; Torus danced through every season;
Belladonna sang of wonder—bless her—she found in mud a kingdom.
"Walk together," she liked to whisper, "none shall govern, yet you'll prosper, all together."
Thus we walked and never doubted.
Soon the winters gathered faster, every triumph, each disaster,
Fed the roots of silent changes, poisoned by collective mayhem.
Bram grew cold, yet clever, saying, "'Tis the world of ripened plunder."
Torus laughed, "Then feast and pleasure!" Belladonna pleaded, "Spirit sighs at such folly..."
"More than conquest, look for more; seek the unseen and find the shore."
Alas, Bram and Torus were delighted, so they ran and sprouted.
Years went by bearing gold and glory, yet behind the shining story,
Every bargain, every victory left a debt I could not score.
Of the trio, no one prospered; Belladonna took it hardest.
Bram declared, "Be stronger!" Torus answered, "Wait no longer!"
Belladonna wept in silence, banished from my republic.
"Leave her sleeping," Torus muttered, as Bram concurred that dreamers only made them poor.
Thus Belladonna was then silenced.
Then the quarrels grew unending, breaking, bending, never mending,
Till my house became a kingdom split by factions all at war, divided houses always fall.
Thought condemned the flesh for weakness; flesh mocked thought as joyless bleakness.
Belladonna wandered, pale and wounded, exiled and ignored; her voice, though hoarse, still lingered.
"Who," I cried, "among you rules me? Tell me truly—I implore!"
Each replied, "I rule no longer; our ruin is your making."
Belladonna wandered, pale and wounded, exiled and ignored; her voice, though hoarse, still lingered.
"Who," I cried, "among you rules me? Tell me truly—I implore!"
Each replied, "I rule no longer; our ruin is your making."
I cried like Belladonna, knowing it could have been different.
Then, upon an autumn evening, while I walked in silent grieving, Belladonna still weeping—
Came a weathered shepherd with a faithful hound beside him.
Then, upon an autumn evening, while I walked in silent grieving, Belladonna still weeping—
Came a weathered shepherd with a faithful hound beside him.
An ocean of fur, soft to the touch, this canine was more of a wolf
Ferocious, yet gentle; a killer that loves,
A window to natural alignment as God had intended
Not through sermon, not through speaking, not through wisdom I was seeking,
But the faithful duo roused a fire, just in time to rescue Belladonna.
Bram and Torus were awakened; they could see how their road had failed them.
In their eyes there burned no conflict;
But the faithful duo roused a fire, just in time to rescue Belladonna.
Bram and Torus were awakened; they could see how their road had failed them.
In their eyes there burned no conflict;
Grace became their only refuge as Belladonna dismissed vengeance.
Then did Bram grow quieter, all his judgments softer, lighter; still, he refused to rule the council.
Torus bowed his restless passions for a greater purpose; he no longer sought the throne in my republic.
Belladonna lit the chamber, yet claimed no crown to call her own.
She rose rejoicing, heard at last with me to voice it:
"Walk together," they now heard, "none shall conquer but thy master."
Hand in hand through field and rain, as romantics love to say: "One for all and all for one."
Then did Bram grow quieter, all his judgments softer, lighter; still, he refused to rule the council.
Torus bowed his restless passions for a greater purpose; he no longer sought the throne in my republic.
Belladonna lit the chamber, yet claimed no crown to call her own.
She rose rejoicing, heard at last with me to voice it:
"Walk together," they now heard, "none shall conquer but thy master."
Hand in hand through field and rain, as romantics love to say: "One for all and all for one."
Thus, the house no longer fell.
Peace declared, eternal life beckons yonder; may we bond in love forever.
Written by George Tchetvertakov
