The fist that governs from a gauntlet grim
Will one hand honour with a velvet clasp;
To one mind speak, when cause for hope grows slim;
One true advisor, trust beyond its grasp.
To Shadow Queen, one soul is sacrosanct:
For it no weapon is a worthy trade;
Against its need, a separate sum is banked.
Its lone rejection sees a plan un-made.
Just one can challenge pride, and never fear;
A word alone is evidence enough.
They light the Shadow Court by being here,
For love is shared, though words are rare and gruff.
The Shadow Queen found loves in many ways.
But one yet lives, on whom no hand she lays.
Jenkins Rising 