Insanity leads to chaos, Then to solitude. The fruitless effort of adding meaning to what is meaningless. A lone, crimson tear falls to the sea… The echo of the remaining star cries out in the infinite vacuum. The least I can do is send my distant prayers over the wind of time, setting sail on…

    What was the start of all this? When did the cogs of fate begin to turn? Perhaps it is impossible to grasp that answer now, From deep within the flow of time… But, for a certainty, back then, We loved so many, yet hated so much, We hurt others and were hurt ourselves……