So still I remain beneath the stars.
Their transient majesty blankets the sullen.
The sound of the complacent tranquility whispers into my deafened ears.
How fragile and taciturn, the breath of the night: a disturbance amongst us in wake of my stir.
My rest will in frustration wait as I have promised to shepherd my brothers.
Beneath obsidian skies, I am compelled only through stubborn nature.
I think only to harbor the adulation that in flames of passion or war will never burn.
The discordant winds of war, its acrid scent stinging my eyes, can never blind the love I possess.
And in silence have I sworn to remain ardent and impassioned.
And may no enemy encircling lay hands upon which I so feverishly love.
I shall never abandon you, so speak not a word not another word.
I'll be right here by your side.
Though the burdened crown of weight upon weakened column shall end.
I with dying breath have appeased this macerating creation by human hands.
Oh how glorious the silence, all iniquities bereaved as it descends to Earth on this most shameless of evenings.
I will never know another night to be the same.
May the resonating word of this memory burn brighter than the spirit of my youth: that I perished the last of vitality
so that others may persist so that my brothers may live on.