Punning off my nickname, the Young Sprite, a friend told me I am "Pan backwards." The ensuing conversation revealed a misunderstanding and, in a moment of mirth, I composed the following blank verse summing up the argument and my response to it.
He tells me I am Pan reversed:
for passion, reason; for heart, mind --
no warmth of feeling sways my thought,
I the Ice Queen, cold, aloof.
At best I have a heart as wild
as any ancient god in spring,
but so subordinate to sense
its pleas are crushed by logic-ing.
But see! I am so grateful, friend,
that you can speak my heart's desires
and tell me what I truly feel
since I would be the last to know.
II. The Heart
I tell you, I am Pan reversed:
he is old and I am young,
he seeks youth but I, age,
lawless he's enslaved to passion --
but I am like the poet's work;
The meter set, the craft designed,
the laws accepted, bound I'm free,
studying the heart and mind.
Thus feelings in-bridled to wiser thought,
reared in discipline and strength,
my passions know the depths and heights,
run swifter, burn fiercer than any god's.
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