Wherefore hath thou left me? Or, perchance, thou were never mine? Thy sweet song were for another, and not for me? Oh, temptress of mine imagination, return to me. Sweet Siren though thou art, I doth need you.
And yet---without thou, I doth feel the wings of freedom arching o'er my back. Without thou I hath once again regained control over mine own writings. Without thou, I am mine own. Instead of being chained and controlled by thy heathen allure.
So, away with ye! I doth stand on mine own. Without thee.