Noblesse Oblige
Bated young as if moth,
our rushlight engrossing as inferno,
to minds untaught of hell.
As hell itself to learned folk,
cursed with mystic beginnings,
drowned deep within their well.
Before the airy days of care,
can gently ease them in,
to the world as sheer as veil.
We bury deep insecurities,
in soil that we are oblige to love,
and scorch the earth in ways that time will only tell.
Copyright © Olin Poems By | Year Posted 2014
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