I enter the gate leading to the mansion.
Treetops up there are pushed around.
I know where I'm going. I'm afraid,
but I like to read, and what I've read
tells me there are words in words.
In my cloak, my shape is one thing,
a certain title. I shall be stripped of it,
against my father's will, against mine.
One of mine. There is more than one voice
giving commands. Obedience is
a choice among voices, among paths,
among different untried wants, cold
and heat, safety and death. Safety is death.