My loathy love what lour has riddled thee of sense and sanctimony?
It was this dreary azure was it not, or was it that you’ve grown cognizant, finally, o finally of the vastness of this existence
But so fall not lovely for to tether you back is but a task as I to lift suns
Take me with you if you dare, I plead you dare...your company is to the rotundity of the pith of my being..,
For how long can this sanctity hold?
Held high thy highness not man nor a maid but a distant spirit...but a distant spirit