I dreamt a pleasant thing,
but had bitter reaping.
I spoke a lovely word,
but now my tongue is slurred.
I thought I sought the truth,
I’d hoped to find the proof;
I sought only glory,
and lost the real story.
I think I’ll dream again.
Maybe this time I’ll win,
but I’m so tired now.
I stoop. I’m made to bow.
Tale Told 