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Poem

Thy precepass is given the longing of what lay & lingure fore the taste
of victory still bitter sweet to the tounge, & thy exume'eth thy Love in a
prosperous fortitude of Love which give'th 'Thee happiness from thy inner sancutary,
& yet Lingure does through thy will, because not set yet the Fortitude
Thy will, will become'th . . . Yet Fortitude has been given & the Beast Yet
Lingure . . . & thy will be done upon it, Fore the shadoes cross & wither
over the nether of a lesser being one of the two . . . lay which whome thy
Encombers the Beast we shall'eth not had known From'eth Thee . . .
& As thy Path Grows, a stike come'eth & until thy seek that which sought thyn,
Ney shall thee walk that path, Fore thee must become an Enlightened person,
Not lingure over the thought of loss, which thee is already always in mind &
will be thy reward fore thyn Trials were at an End, when thee was
Encombered Through Fortitude . . . And your loss meant that thee tiss
had the true Honor of being thee only one to face thyn Glory and loose, again.
Fore if then the Beast kept his treasure, whome would he guard it From?
& So thyn Victory is already set, over life, over finding ones path from throught
Thyn Fears walked one never to be walked again.

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