As her fate, she accepted the world of ice, shining, shimmering, dead; she resigned herself to the triumph of glaciers and the death of the world.

I took a heavenly ride through our silenceI knew the moment had arrivedFor killing the past and coming back to life".

My life has become a dismal sigh fettered by pangs of grief and anguished weeping.

There was something in her eyes that made me trust her. Maybe it was because they held the same cynicism, the same world-weariness I saw in my own every morning when I looked at myself in the mirror.

For too long I have played on the stage of lucidity, and I have lost. Now I need to accustom my eyes to the falling darkness. I need to contemplate the natural slumber of all things, which the light calls forth, yet also causes to tire. Life must begin in darkness. Its powers of germination lie hidden. Every day has its night, every light has its shadow.I cannot be asked to accept these shadows gladly. It is enough that I accept them.

What do we any of us have but our illusions? And what do we ask of others but that we be allowed to keep them?