14 February 2014


Ladies and gentlemen, the first crown is now complete, turning back on itself.
Adorning this crown is a sonnet wreath, composed of the first lines of the fourteen sonnets comprising the crown:

I want a hero ‒ but then don't we all?
I see the hero deep in all of us:
a small, swift flame to shield against the fall
alone, into the cold impervious.
Can I be trusted? Will I heed the call?
An Englishman tries not to make a fuss
he brings sweet moderation to the ball.
Behind their backs I tut at the unjust.
I will not take this bullshit any more
the best thing you can do is be a man,
contender in no ordinary war,
ignoring anyone who has a plan.
We all must die, but then, who's keeping score?
I'll try to live a little while I can.

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