ₜᵢₗₗ ₒₙ ₜₕₑ ₕₐᵤₙₜᵢₙg fₗₐᵣₑₛ wₑ ₜᵤᵣₙₑd ₒᵤᵣ bₐcₖₛ, ₐₙd ₜₒwₐᵣdₛ ₒᵤᵣ dᵢₛₜₐₙₜ ᵣₑₛₜ bₑgₐₙ ₜₒ ₜᵣᵤdgₑ.

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Cake day: June 24th, 2023

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  • daisy lazarus@lemmy.worldOPtoMemes@sopuli.xyzThe beast
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    11 months ago

    In galleries of old, where art doth rest, A tale of manhood, modest at best. In marble and canvas, the tale is told, Of a small appendage, brave and bold.

    Through the lens of the Renaissance gaze, In the softest light of the morning haze, A symbol of virtue, of power restrained, In the smallest form, manhood is gained.

    Not the boast of the braggart, nor the warrior’s might, But a subtle whisper in the quiet night. In the artist’s hand, a truth unfolds, A tale of modesty, in the tales of old.

    In the eyes of the beholder, a lesson learned, Not in size, but in virtue earned. Dulce et decorum, the old ones say, To bear one’s self in a modest way.

    So gaze upon the art of yore, And see the truth at its very core. In the smallest form, a tale is spun, Of the quiet strength in every one.