conquerer

did you think i have forgotten
after all that i’ve begotten,
using paper, ink, and pen,
using all my wit and ken?

oh, how immature thy faith,
much more fragile than a wraith!
this ain’t fleeting as a breath;
’tis immortal, with no death!

when i promised thee forever,
it thus follows that i’d never
disavow what i aver —
that i love thee, conquerer!

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