The Solemn Proviso Poem by Hannington Mumo

You'll not the twisted paths of middling sojourners tread,
Or like a commoner's your manly motions predictably set;
You must beat that fear that virtue assails, that false dread
That makes otherwise firm walkers weep or pause and fret.

You must not the sluggard's easy companion be,
Or cherish the oiled glamors of many a lost liar;
You content shall walk till the tunnel's end you see,
When all icy chill turns into a nuzzling pleasant fire.

You from now must all low-thinking beings shun
For their absolute trademark lowliness of thought;
You'll nevertheless tour their society for turns of fun,
All wisely wordless to study the zilch ways of naught.

Yet for any turns of lowly substance pressed to overspill,
You shan't license a hangdog slave to wield the least say
Over even the slimmest terrain of incidence or thematic thrill;
And you shan't mix with frivolities that wide wisdoms sway.