The light of dawn is death, and
you cry death, death, and
there is no heart
left in you.
everything has been left to weather in the sun and rain for too long.
one no longer needs it,
dawn is now full upon the hills,
you can feel it
It is the pounding of your horse's hooves
the heaving of flanks the pressing of air in lungs
Who would notice you, if you did burst, and you fought no more? What difference would it make?
abandon hope and even despair
You have already thrown it away; you do not know how to find it again.
This is the beginning again. light finally breaks, and you feel your heart leap within your breast.