——————————————-

To who and how do these scores remain existent?  A distance past of running, and nothing but it, but finally, like a wolf stalking it’s prey, the dark has begun to catch up on me. These plains that seem some millions of miles long are not fit for the runners, to run and run, only to loose sense of direction, are these plains ways of punishing us for all the sins we have ever done. I have sealed away my weapons for what feels like a hundred years, for why now, during this sacred time and travel and endless thoughts must I force myself to create the urge to fight? Though I may dream of peace, this sense of violence has found it’s way end. To either run, or continue my pace and face the black are the only choices I have.