My Human Disguise.
The besotted hero allows his love’s presence
At war on sea against the advice of his men,
As though afraid he might never see her again,
Though Cleopatra demanded her attendance.
The engagement lost, her man rumored dead, she flew
From the smoke-obscured scene, not aware that she drew
Anthony after her, leaving his men to drown.
For love of her he lost his honor and his crown.
I believe in “honor,” though not a common word,
As it once was — a life that honors all others.
My definition, at least. Some think me absurd.
And love? It can’t be defined except by lovers.
I do not judge them, overcome by love (not lust).
I honor them whose love and honor’s all but dust.
