Alas, the stagnant past, falling into utter darkness
My heart is pounding, the door is open and closed.

Alas, the endless past, without the lure of ability
The dictum is worn out in sentences, half awakened though.

Alas, the indefatigable past, composed with a fearless heart
Lonely as the incarnation of any God, deviation of Avatar.

Alas, the faded past, the gain is inlaid
Drenched in delusion, perhaps, worn out in childishness.