I wrote the following poem about three years ago and I hope my readers will enjoy it. By the way, the word "synod" refers to a religious council which is convened to discuss matters of doctrine and what-not. I’ll leave the meaning of the title in this particular context open to interpretation.
I burn with seething fury great
I feed on searing, fiery hate
Drink full now from my cinder chalice
Know me well, for I am Malice
No escape my grip allows
Approaching doom do I avow
Ever closer, drawing near
Behold my face, I am Fear
In mourning I should have you wallow
Gloomy thoughts, a life made shallow
Beauty, even, I make unfair
You know my name, ’tis I, Despair
My lofty aims so high and grand
With haughty head, here I stand
My fellow man I gleefully chide
Embrace me now, I am Pride
I am here, the lonesome one
Left behind, forever shunned
Not one to hurt, to spite, to shove
Elusive, gentle, I am Love
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