*by Kahlil Gibran*  >Defeat, my Defeat, my solitude and my aloofness; >You are dearer to me than a thousand triumphs, >And sweeter to my heart than all world-glory. > >Defeat, my Defeat, my self-knowledge and my defiance, >Through you I know that I am yet young and swift of foot >And not to be trapped by withering laurels. >And in you I have found aloneness >And the joy of being shunned and scorned. > >Defeat, my Defeat, my shining sword and shield, >In your eyes I have read >That to be enthroned is to be enslaved, >And to be understood is to be leveled down, >And to be grasped is but to reach one’s fullness >And like a ripe fruit to fall and be consumed. > >Defeat, my Defeat, my bold companion, >You shall hear my songs and my cries and my silences, >And none but you shall speak to me of the beating of wings, >And urging of seas, >And of mountains that burn in the night, >And you alone shall climb my steep and rocky soul. > >Defeat, my Defeat, my deathless courage, >You and I shall laugh together with the storm, >And together we shall dig graves for all that die in us, >And we shall stand in the sun with a will, >And we shall be dangerous.