Many thought him a miscreant
With hair well past his shoulders
His demeanor always casual
His integrity much bolder
He possessed the musculature
Of a fighter close to winning
Yet he never seemed surprised
When pushed back to the beginning
He walked with such a calm
It betrayed his warring mind
Funny that so many feared
A man unsaturnine
The deep lines laid upon him
Surely spoke of his exhaustion
Still his peaceful glide did not turn back
Those who would accost him
We’ve lost his joyful wisdom
And unprecedented patience
An ever gleaming mirror
Of the dangers of complacence
The Mewriginal 
Leave a Reply