To the night, to the dreams,
When I meet my maker’s gleam,
I would ask just one more thing,
For all these years, you spared me thus,
What of my purpose you had me filled,
When my time’s done, springs’ gone,
What of the glorious feats,
You had me achieved for this life spend,
Marvelous Design of your countless thoughts,
How could I be left without a caught,
If it is as complex as you made me believe,
Let there better be a requital of sorts, for,
Your countless flaws of my celestial deeds.