The Great Man


His contempt has no bound
His Love's depth none can sound
His wrath on men of God
Is tempered in manner odd.

Nurtured in mimicry's gloom
To tread like sheep his doom
But he is much inclined
To creative bent of mind.

In midst of surging throng
He keeps aloof for long,
Like lamp, he lights the hall,
But has not mate at all.

Faqr can like sun of morn
With light the mead adorn
Its speech is frank and free,
Though meanings tenuous be.

Its views vary with’ the rest,
it deems them right and best
Its innate slates unknown
To mystics with renown.

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