The sky may be dark with no moon to be seen,


yet I look to the stars for an answer,







a sign.



But neither I see in this dark before me.





So I sit alone in this rotted field and


weep, for the light of hope has canceled its coming to the







now barren world.


The light will never come again to these fields of gray.

Their silence tells the songs that are now sung in those


town squares, for none are sung.






The light has fled in fear of being

swallowed by the burning flame of greed that has fermented



in man's heart for eternity.




Yet, I alone remain here, in these sickened


plains, tears come in rivers down my dirt-covered cheeks.


I don't mind the dark, just the solitude left by the




graves of sworn friends and the fact that I



cannot join them, because I can't die.







Left to start a new race with no




one at my side while all the time suffering



eternal pain that doesn't end.





Ever.