in his tower of bone
He thinks he wields
power alone.
All that he sees
and all that he hears
is tested and weighed
against the wisdom of years.
His scales are just.
His vision is pure.
His library vast.
His verdict is sure.
Cold knowledge his counselor,
decisions of steel,
based on what's firm,
proven and real.
But alas, his nose tickles
with the scent of perfume;
A warm, rare aroma
rising up from her room.
A ballad of destiny
with a drumbeat for dance
of risking it all
on a sliver of chance.
Passion blind, she knows
only what she can feel.
Feathery touch, silken skin
quickly bruised, slow to heal.
She keeps the fire.
She feeds the fuel.
Hers is the longshot,
the feud and the duel.
Who rules the kingdom
will it be fire or steel?
What he can know
or what she can feel?
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