"Poety is something more philosophic and of graver import than history, since its statements are of the nature of universals, whereas those of history are singulars."
-Aristotle

by Benji Leal

Undo these chains of life, I pray,
For I am tired and long in years.
I wish to join my brothers three
Where silence reigns and dark adheres.

No longer quick and light, my blade
Within my grasp, as though an asp,
This rapier's edge to match my wit;
No longer to my breast I clasp.

No longer hear I Aramis,
The one who chose to bear a cross;
Nor Porthos, with a rose-cheeked lass,
And wine for in his mouth to toss!

Nor Athos, he who led the Three,
The last of them to grip Death's hand,
For now they venture 'neath this sod
Awaiting me, to join their band.

We fought for king, and 'oft a queen,
And country long did we defend.
Yet war and time have left a void
That love ill strives to breach and mend.

Sweet death, I pray deliver me,
For loudly do I hear their call;
The noblest I could dare exclaim
'Tis, "All for one, and one for all!"

© Copyright 2003 by Benji Leal

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