The arrow pointed west,
the heart aimed east
The body went up, down, north, south,
pacing in the corridors

Adolescent wolves chase the myth,
it is this they run endlessly for
Blocked in prisms of light,
pounding on walls for heartless dark

Under the moon they cry, and she shows
no mercy
She refuses to acknowledge her dimness
compared to her competitor

With little gleamings she tells them,
This entanglement takes place after dark-
when the sun cannot feed you

-c.j.

Ef veröldin vissi að hve miklu leyti
þú þjáðist á krossinum þínum,
myndi trú hjá oss brenna eins og þúsund sólir.

Þeir munu aldrei þekkja
þyrnana sem stungu í þig,
eða hvössu flísarnar sem brunnu á bakinu.

Jafnvel þú, Drottinn vor,
spurðir Föðurinn af hverju;
Æ, sjáðu ekki vort trúleysi!

Fyrirgef þú oss syndugum mönnum;
veit þú oss þína miskunn;
börnin þín erum týnd;
þó ég allra týndastur.