What does one do, when all the world is dark
and hope has lost its last, small, lingering spark
and voices murmur from the hidden deep
beckoning us to long, eternal sleep?

How does one answer, when the glowing well
of faith is empty, and the senses dwell
in nether regions deep, devoid of light
and earthly visions vanish from the sight?

Where does one go, when all the paths are barred
and the warm living tissues warped and scarred,
and deep within the phantom voices call
and all is ready for the second fall?