He was born of the grandiosity,
The pride of wolves,
The bravery of lions,
The wit of ravens;
He was born of a beast.

He had the might of the strongest,
He triumphed every strife.
He always had the victory,
Of the pleasures of life,
He was born of a beast, indeed;

Yet unlike the beasts akin;
He was not of ferocity,
A strange affliction, received;
Bravery of lions, he has, indeed,
Yet, he struggles with a foe.

The foe gave the toughest skirmish he had,
Sadly, he failed to vanquish it:
The sullen darkness, the specter,
The mist that did nothing but whisper;
Whisper tragedies over naught.

It filled him with guilt,
It filled him with fear;
It made the Beast weary,
To conceal the scars he sought in battle;
A battle far too explicit.

He, the beast, ventured endlessly,
Trying to hide his curse.
He tried to release himself from everyone;
His kinship, his gallantry,
His kin.

Then in his yonder, he met a wisp;
Lively, bright, pompous.
The wisp accompanied him in his bouts:
The bouts that hid his truths,
The bouts that pushed him away from his realities.

Alas, the Specter he encounters once more.
Again, it whispers his fears.
Amidst the pain he listens to, a faint voice enlightens him;
The wisp speaks his bravery;
The wisp speaks acceptance.

His eyes were unclouded,
It glowed like never before.
He had done something he thought he would've never done:
Vanquish the evil that haunts him;
Vanquish the Specter of Censures.

A day arose again.
He, the Beast awoke, listening to the hymn of the wisp;
It spoke that his battle was not of the specter's,
That his battle was within the Beast's self,
And with it, he slumbers, edified.

He awakens once again,
Realizing the truth that he is:
A flamboyant Faun,
Frolicking in the meadowy grasslands,
Basking the Sun's warmth.

Yet realizing this, he wears his mane once more,
As he is greeted again by his kin;
He fears not that hisself  be lost;
He fears that his all would be lost,
When they are darted by his Truth.

He, the Beast still walks upon his feet,
He still has the grandiosity of his birth,
Yet he forcefully clouds himself in lies,
To hide the reality he only can accept;
The Faun, hiding in the beast's mane.