"Sometimes he knows his present being just a result of former voyages, journeys odysseys to scenes revealing to him facilities of which existence he better should not have heard of. The legend, to him of another "what is known" Sharon addressed her sadness about the anaesthetised composed melody lurking in the aura of the distance, prepared to be set free in the timespace from a touch of a deed to its execution; in the morning a limb of the fairylands, at sundown he belonged to the blind characters occupying the fools' basis. Can this be true? A star so wise now reads the moon After lifetimes in his stealthy glance Meanwhile a scholar, a patron one... He observes the sparks again. The sparks perceive his willingness.With the will he drifts away, surely on his way towards home, Because home is where he sold his skin." "So obscure the sand. As an eldest sinner On the Orphan planet I was meant to bleed My roots - And I bled my roots Into the out of my strength. So godless the veil of mora**. So spoken, the blood on my wishes. A melancholy withers why I saw Wolvesmoon"