My archetypes are strong,
Indeed have always been,
But how very out of whack they are!

For I have the Lover's sorrow,
Oh boy DO I!
The yellow dawn of
My lover has known no bounds,
Loving oh so very well,
Yet also so very very much,
And contrary to my promise,
I HAVE taken so very much
So very personally,

Talking of bounds,
My scarlet Warrior never heard of such,
Certainly never observed any
As I crashed raging through lives -
Others as well as mine own -
Yet for all the dynamic charging
And lack of regard,
Doing my honourable best,
Albeit that which suited me,

And thence from the dark
Comes my Magician,
Swathed in black and the shadows
Of a thousand thousand fears,
Machiavellian and mysterious,
Bending wills and manipulating
Hearts and minds and souls
To mine own ends while
Making no assumptions,

But whispering too in the ear
Of my joyful Sovereign,
Stood proud in blinding white,
Balancing the three servants,
The kingdom and
The excesses of those others,
Making of me the best
That I can be,

For when all is said
And all is done,
My word
Remains,
My bond.