In my chamber, I lie wide awake,
As spectral phantoms return to haunt me,
Phantoms I cannot simply dismiss,
Is this the essence I have always known,
What I have held dear through the years?

In the wee hours of the night,
An existential tempest strikes with force:
Who am I, and what do I truly know?
With a fractured sense of self, I strive,
To gather my scattered thoughts.

But to what extent shall I reach?
What are the normative components?
For I sense the anguish of nihilism,
In its unfettered form,
Yet I still plod with it.

Thus, amidst the uncertainties,
I resolve to let them run their course,
Hoping that, little by little,
They may dwindle into the depths of oblivion.