All bow

The poets strung pearls
  so I undid the strands;
the wise crafted words
  so I helped them understand.

The sophists debated
  so I tied up their tongues;
the prophets prophesied
  so I gave Destiny a hand.

When all was done
  and the smoke had cleared
each one bowed down before me:
  “How swift thy sword!” they exclaimed.

But I, the poet madman,
did demure:
  "It was Love that smote thee, sires,
  for none may play the lord
  in His domain."