Descended I, from Heaven's breath on Earth,
Sublime, and self-proclaimed as glorious be,
Not one creature supersedes my worth,
Though greatness may have been illusory;
Flaws peppered my whole life intensively,
Shortcomings, the norm of my very days,
Regrets have hounded me persistently,
Peace and love, rarely in my dwelling stays;
Is there a future, the way matters stood?
With no past which to retrospect of worth,
As evil taints my labors as it could,
To make chance at perfection be in dearth;
……Whose image then had emulated, I?
……And to what glory could my life apply?
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