simple and artless I called the dead never weary of death.
"The seekers after world knowledge I condemned as offenders of the holy spirit and those who would naught but the spirit I branded as hunters of shadows who cast their nets in flat waters and catch but their own images.
"Thus with my lips have I denounced you, while my heart, bleeding within me, called you tender names.
"It was love lashed by its own self that spoke. It was pride half slain that fluttered in the dust. It was my hunger for your love that raged from the housetop, while my own love, kneeling in silence, prayed your forgiveness.
"But behold a miracle!
"It was my disguise that opened your eyes, and my seeming to hate that woke your hearts.
"And now you love me.
"You love the swords that strike you