Two roosters lived in seemly peace until a hen one day appeared; then all-out war ensued.
They fought with bitter hate—for love. The battle raged, and drew a gawking crowd.
There flocked around the victor pretty, plumed admirers, while the loser slunk away, ashamed, alone.
Recluded from the world within his coop, he mourned the glory and the love he’d lost—resented, too, the love and glory that his adversary’d won. His courage galvanized by rancor and disgust, he daily whetted on a stone his beak, and daily practiced clawing wind and slaying empty air.
This jealous wrath he honed, but never needed. For his foe was one day swaggeringly crowing from the rooftops when a vulture heard his voice—and all his triumph vanished in one swoop.
His rival now was petted, praised, and loved by all those cackling hens.
Fear nemesis. Be careful that your boasts are not too loud, for fortune will abase the overproud.