The sun was distant, far away the day was distant, far away. Who calls out, dark cries in the night? Who cries, at night. Am ever drawn— Don’t call out! I am ever the cause of it. Silently, the dark suffers, and I feel it. I call out silently. The day is quiet, memories, and the distant silence, dead and silent. I am its cause. I call out of it. It calls me on.