I have lost everything, and I had nothing. I am left alone. Cast aside as nothing more than a moment's worth of entertainment. Once, there were many who called my name. What joy they held and love they felt! But now my name seems a distant memory and apart of some tongue forgotten long ago. My face is fading ash and my existence is being torn apart. What am I left with? Is there no wise man upon a mountain, to which I can turn? There is not enough light to even cast my shadow upon the wall, not enough light to give me even that much company.

Pretend still, looking to an older truth, older even than the gods. Perhaps I can run, but where? Surrounded by walls in a field of of grass lit by the new moon.