If to live is to be awake and to die is to sleep then how can one dream?
For no matter how hard I scorn my blood, my faith still stands and to die would be sin upon my name; I am but a human, but to take the morning away is a gods power for which I do not wish to have. A modern day Hamlet is nothing new, we see corruption everyday yet we stand still.

How can I trust myself with such vengeance if my choices lead to the end? To the land of no return? I pity such who would dare to venture, but that is only to help heal the grief of not being able to go myself. A lost man in a small and desperate body attempting to live a final dream.