When all of it is hopeless, I die in my bed. Weeping I shall fall. Into the hands of Slumber. Dream may I not. Restless are my shadows. Every weight is tied upon my heels. And every darkness weaving a veil in front of me.
Though I wait for dawn to come, all I see is dusk.
Though I wait for the sun to rise, I see nothing.
I have lost my direction. But I will regain it.
