Though my
Soul goes illiterate
Even just
A little bit
Of the beauty
Keeps me
Maintaining
Refraining
Abstaining
From the chaos
Seeking enlightenment
And some sort
Of pay off
Knights
Can be thieves
Mages
Low in intellect
Bards
Out of breath
Clerics
Looking left from right
The classless
Eclectic taste
Of my ire
Melts down
The crown
And calls
The village fool sire
At least one
Knows where
They stand with logic
The other was privileged
And thought that he bought it
A sage came
In silk garments
And red fox hat
Who said
When he spoke
He made walls collapse
He said this
Around mud huts
In a typhoon
Called Agni
A buffoon
Praise the sun
Bless the moon
These boots are new
I'm going back to the inn
To fashion spears
From brooms
And play with a loon
How fitting