Blackpower 's Sonnets (ep)

Sonnet 19

When ancient heroes fade from memory's mind,

And all their valiant deeds are lost to rust,

And silent dust is all that they can find,

Consumed by time's indifferent, hungry lust.

Then may my own poor name be cast aside,

And all my mortal strivings come to naught,

For fame is but a fleeting, foolish pride,

And all its empty glories, dearly bought.

But if the truth of what my spirit knew,

The inner light that guided me so long,

Can live within the simple lines I drew,

Then my poor verse will find its worthy song.

For in that truth, though time my form may burn,

My essence will remain, and will return.

Sonnet 20

I see the weary merchant count his gold,

And find in numbers comfort for his soul,

A brittle fortress, where his heart is old,

And keeps his mind from being truly whole.

He locks his wealth in coffins and in stone,

And thinks that riches will keep him secure,

But when the final reaper makes his moan,

His useless wealth will not the soul allure.

So let him keep his coins, and let him hoard,

His hollow treasures, purchased and controlled;

My wealth is not within a bank's record,

But in the story that I have to be told.

And though my purse is empty, and I sigh,

The value of my love will never die.