I am the Blacksheep... I am.

    The dreaded bad-seed... some say.

        I am a poet, and a warrior; and,

            its been said, "Akin to a weed."

I am the nature that fails to conform... I am.

    I am "tranquility" . . .

Then... I am the storm.

Tested by trial, tempered by fear; sacked, rejected,

    Imprisoned, beaten & battered, and turned away.

But, always galvanized by those tough & dear.

I know about love; I know of hate;

    I've seen a lot of the small; 

        and I've known some great as well as,

            some early; but of all those I've known most

                have only been too late.

Now, here I lay ensconced in my grave after all these years,

    my epitaph trans... lates:

"Quenched in the Fire of Life's burning Hell;

not an iota less fierce, nor bowed, nor bent;

just dead."

Thus, I was a good servant who served his god

    to a fair-thee-well . . .