Futility

Futility

Until the ends of time. Ost nagramee ramen. Till night doth come. Rieme let droh x'hum. And sweet darkness takes all.

It is a quaint wish that held the thoughts of man when caming knocking to his destiny a mortal question.

What, prithee, dost thou taste when what ye desire is furthest from thine lips?

The bitter and harsh rending of thine tongue is the morcel of futility that ye have bitten.

Sour as the fallen fruit never eaten. Dull as fallen leaves never seen. Harshest of expectations never to be fulfilled.

Such is the desire to be fulfilled in the short dream that is a mortal man's life.

Wish thee for life then? Even when t'is life that will in the end forsake thee?

Foolish wishes and dreams.

Come again when ye are dead.