Satyr or faun,

whichever denounced,

all stands the same.

You gaze your eyes

upon me to judge.

Images depicted

in sins of a father.

A mistake of a man,

And a curse of a kind.

Peer inside to see

a creature not of pure sexuality.

My flute plays to please.

I dance to be free.

To be free is to be me

in individuality.

Once following Bacchus

not for drink nor pleasure.

Through he we were seen

“As is” is fine.

In that we celebrated

with party, with wine.

Old gods are gone

and a new came.

Through words of one God

your judgment remains.

Banished amongst

the bush and trees.

I now gaze upon you

with only song to please.