His indelicate obsessions can all too often frighten his more gentle companions who feel awkward toward his deep passion. Regret consumes his extreme nature unable at times to avoid unwanted attention. Allowed only an immature vision of his aspect pain, none can comprend his heroic anguish. That lack of understanding makes his grasp of society seem powerless and lost.
His unending task to garner weeping flowers already crushed amongst the mill-stones. He contiplates the sea with an impatient gaze as the acold wanton wind brushes his thwarted face. His lost eros, once a sweet cypress maiden now myriad in sorrow acting the role of the ungrateful bride. He is left to dream of her erst panting bosom when only winged ministers would understand his veneration.
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