all is now lost.
weep for the song i sing is full of sorrows. years, three and ten times three, have passed, and it is not yet the last of battles. grimness of heart. i am the grumblehogan. i am the ashes of the world.
frithuswith! frithuswith!
will i bear to wear this crown of thorns and walk this hard and dangerous road? who do i need to be? will we still know?
frithuswith!
you arrived and i am no longer with you. when will i recognise that we did not change, that we will never be the same? must i live my life time and time again, with every joy and every heartache returning and repeating forevermore? let this chalice pass from me!
i kneel and pray for the blessing of my passage.
behold, we ourselves are monuments. evil things shall not come into this sacred garden. let us sit here for aeons.
and dream.