Produced from the maelstrom of neglection my nocturnal prayer died away in the unreality of a never ending happiness "My prayer...?" "Died away in eternity!" If there's live before death it's not for me who spreads his dark cold pinion over the eternal silence of a gnawed frosty winter landscape "My prayer...?" "Died away in eternity!" The answer of the mystery which is put into my hands is the unholy property of a longest forgotten insufficiency which built on rusty pillars indulges in senseuality to the morbid repulsiveness of ruin "and what moves there in the shadow?" "It's your image!" "Who calls there in the mirror?" "It's your comprehension!" Unrestlessness whispering appearences shatter the frail ear which escapes with the folly of an unconcerned remonstration up through black dirt into the light