I want not to replicate the old gods
In my decry of my love for my dear nyas,
Her pristine love for me went aboveboard
Follies of the princonx in their native demesness,
As my efforts to love back are stretched taut
My hands held forlorn in the snarling gyvies,
Their cradle nothing but nativities fiat,
Other than my luckless stone falconer’s life lurk.