Mine tears are falling. Alas mine soul is wilting. I fell in love with a passing dream. The delicate whisper in the dark. Thou art not true to thine or I. Where dwelt once the starry night, heavens weep for the lies on thy frozen forked tongue. No rose which is to smell as sweet or wake mine to thy dawn? Hail to thee, God's of mercy, I beg you to take my red bleeding chest for another of thy worthiness. This sadness of sorrow burdens mine shoulders. Doth I stay forever in this cave that is my refuge, not to touch thine hand again or to wear thy encirclement upon mine hand. Confessions shared, a secret kept, forever you will weep. I crouched first at the feet of the uncertain Christian and then found solace in the Pagan hero of the hour. By cast not throw stones, but your pretty words to titter the young maidens forever more. Mine dragon hath reared his head in my stead, forever where I dwell, he will surely follow. By the sway of errant winds upon the seas, the sonnet has been read aloud in the temple. Mine dragon guards dual body and soul. This holy fire breaths truth upon this troubled time. A wreath of fire encircles mine hand in turn from yours, wrought that it be, at bay if be ye not to knock. Forever is only thine moment in time.