I saw Truth with her lover
In the dark;
I took my raiment, and galloped far away
To where I slew a knight in combat
And took his woman from him.
I had then found a tree
Of which I wished to make her a garland from
Yet the tree bled and spoke.
He told me of a wicked sorceress
Who made he and his lover into those trees.
I had found, also, that the knight I slew
Had two brothers.
I found too many enemies
Yet was I angry with the Truth
For her adultery;
For why would she be in another's bed
And not mine, when I was her betrothed?
I had not seen t'wasn't her
In that bed, but rather the apparition of Morpheus.
For Truth, she seemed, slept nude with Hecate
Yet it was only a magical spell
Which made Truth seem a whore.