whence place thy sight up above thine shoulders,
as it tarries to see no one but thee alone,
even when thy path seemeth crooked,
and goest astray like a lost wondering sheep,
ye durst wax in the Barn of thine selfishness.
Thy ego seem so high to accept rebuke
and chastisement, at war with thy virtues.
Been sober, thy countenance speaketh not,
submitting only to thy will and thy will alone.
Always wanting to so'er up high,
but impatient to beget wings.
Ye only bequeath Love for thy honour
and thy appreciation, dost for thy increase.
Art thou worthy of thine brag?
Nay! But thy acclaim, betwixt fame and glory.
Loudest in the proclamation of thy victories,
like a conqueror from whence sing of his battles
and a Merchant, fullsome and majestic.
Thy Robe, when touched or felt by she below,
light up fire from the fuel of thy Anger.
Henceforth, beseech not thy friends,
for their company art thou ruthlessly bargained
with the proceedings of thy wanton folly.
Verily, verily this cancer-worm soweth deeply,
like the root of a deciduous Tree
and just before its leaves wither away,
the path to destruction befalls thee
and behold! the time to take heed hath by-passed thee.
Thy redemption, more difficult than building Rome
because the cup of thy transgression hath gone full.