Khalil Gibran My Master Poem by daegonius bonapartae

The heretic calleth they to he my teacher yea but he be of storms swiftly redundantly crumbling my stature khalil gibran my master deep of my souls evolution cuts thrasher. Taught me did he of love of solitude rectitude becometh he of the clot of thy contented tis lewd. My wise of chains simply regained of links the parchments of my heartless wrought my tenderness. Say they he be just of dust and yea so are they nay of dust and of clay towards requital of blood of the sun's rays belie me Oh hearken my bewilderment plea me Oh khalil rise me highly of God's and of men that I may replenish my resemblance that may I naught sin. Singeth Oh singeth do I of a tune so plentiful walking the path near forest tasting its withered red prunes khalil my khalil to succeed u as I will my master by garment fought for it of the brink's that brought your wisdom to when she departed!