C - The Plight of Cheyetun Demok

Mine are the cries of eternity's thwarted lovers
And the loneliness of the world's forgotten sons
I, the first of many, am last of few
The Lightbringer that the light now shuns.

Perfection was my ruin
And remains my errant Grail,
A vice I've always recognised
And sought to shake to no avail.
But call me not 'Narcisse'
For what I seek is not inside:
I have known the unobtainable
And embraced it as my bride.

Hers is the beauty that all of Heaven covets
And the purest voice that dulls the stars at night
She, the first of many, is last of few
The Songstress without whom I bring no light.