My silver boy does not sit in the high kingdom with the others
on their thrones, in all their glory
he is never spoken of with praise from the pulpit
only damned with whispers and condemnations
never a devoted follower to his teacher
they only say of my spirited boy
traitor
he who is not loved
he who inherited nothing
Oh, my silver-giver who followed me through hot deserts and hotter villages
who broke bread and sipped wine with me
who I brought into the temple and kissed in the garden
wondering, can there really be any exceptions in a love such as that?
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