Once a herald for a crown of thorns,
Now a collector of old impressions,
Disgraced by the mirror I vowed not to be,
I wander unbounded from my old shoes, I am free.

Here is the tale of a young autumn leaf,
Destined to fly but obstructed by grief.
Claim me Lilith, I can't stop the wind's thrust,
Might I become his pareidolia, who's jealous of the jealous god.