Gently raindrops do fall. The still of night broken by the roar of time. A moment of birth and understanding, sillouted across a stormy night. A night in which I am thus born. Pray I now be unto grace lest the shadows o'er take me in the wake of mornings light.
Darkness sees no fault. No human imperfection as far as genetics are concerned. Shadows cannot lie, for their very being is an absolute image. Reflected only in the presence of light, yet there is no prejudice. The still of night carries with her a sense of peace, every whisper amplified yet each word lost in translations. Oh how long shall the shadows I've so long embraced play garment,cloak to my eternal night?
