I ask for peace, but I know of that to be a frailty. I am fallen, betwixt myself. The inseparable feeling plagues me. Am I never to know? That I may fix myself upon a willingness to... But a far sighted plea. I am afraid, for which I fear of. He, oh a similar notion to the thoughts that so desperately fold. They hold on to the wind, like a feather are they swayed. Dancing, the reason seems to disappear itself.