I am my own God; I don’t need your reward!: A poem 

There is a golden orb in a furnace 

that is too hot to touch, but the eye can see 

as if an illumination can nourish 

much, much more than the bread baking in the oven 

And I have asked nothing from destiny 

but bore evil’s treacherous manifestation only to say 

That despite the light hijacked from my repertoire 

 It was love and loyalty that I did honour 

And I know I have paid too many penalties 

when I was deserving of all the royalties 

You can straitjacket the victim not the criminal 

and never reckon that there is no justice in your jurisdiction 

And I know I am worthy of eternity 

But I have only perseveringly thought of duty 

So, if you please, you can count me out of your reward 

I know my own worth; I am my own God!