Transformed

F’r their i wast
waiting in the bruit of silence
of h’r soul
making me rememb’r
the m’rning
in which i wast mourning
f’r nay one
except myself
but only
f’r losing who is’t i am
to the myst’ry
yond who is’t art thee
coequal soft’r than chaos
coequal quaint then Lucifer
and doth thee knoweth who is’t thou art
oh, thou art me
just a did bite transf’rm’d
haply a did bite of troubleth with owneth
but doth thee knoweth wherefore thee hath changed
it’s f’r h’r and nay one else