Thoughts about Blake.
Oh, Blake - the little that I knew of you
was scraps let drop. It was second-hand news;
the standard cracks by practiced tongues. Those few
concealed their care by showing jaundiced views.
So frequently you may have called them friends -
and loyalty was always your profession;
but all things die, and here it's time that kills
and sorrow never is allowed expression.
For they were merely those who had survived;
Your faithful company is mostly dead
because the panther with the topaz eyes
enjoyed the chase - Death followed where she led.
She tore you down and rebuilt you again
You clung onto the only thing you knew;
They said you were a rebel - very well -
the Federation'd rot when you were through;
But in this world that judges by success
you were a loser, Blake, because you tried
to save the world by force (no subtle course)
and thus so many of your people died.
I say again, how could I know you, Blake?
My heart was never witness to your pain,
You seemed to demonstrate more guilt than ache,
as if just you - not Fortune - were to blame.
-- Kathryn A
Disclaimer: I actually like Blake better now than when I wrote this.