Virtue lost

I tell you my Lady but I am no better Saint,
Days to let you know that once so easy and free had become one, two and three,
A lesser heart crushes another,
A soft breeze crushes the stronger one to sea,
But how I come to you was no better,
Though how to sit and watch the fires part as I char through the anguish that becomes of it,
One lover bears another and explains his weight is twice the heart that pumps your blood,
Our follies are one, our pities so small,
The very breath I breathe only as acid could ever kill,
Bond with me here I said yet no task so nigh,
By the end he would sire more suns to glorify you than
YOU to bear his sons to fire him,
A past so meagre and foolish was one so black no eyes be seen,
But I’ll remember the night so long ago,
The man I was and could never be thus,
Then he’ll wander again through the site upon which he declared:
My fair Lady, here was new life to be made.