The Great Man

His contempt has no bound His Loveʹs depth none can sound: His wrath on men of God Is tempered in manner odd.

Nurtured in mimicryʹs gloom, To tread like sheep his doom; But he is much inclined To creative bent of mind.

In midst of surging throng, He keeps aloof for long: Like lamp, he lights the hall, But has not mate at all.

Faqr can like sun of morn With light the mead adorn: Its speech is frank and free, Though meanings tenuous be.

Its views vary with the rest, It deems them right and best; Its innate slates unknown To mystics with renown.