So lay down and drown in the silence of your bleeding heart,

and let die those sorrowful dreams that haunt your memories.

For what you presume you feel may not actually be real,

when the answer to everything is in fact nothing at all.

What can hope do but to flee under the affliction of its dirge,

as thoughts tremble and perish into the emptiness of withering stars.

When the burden of presence is finally lifted beyond grasp,

your essence will be able to succumb to the austere diminution of life.