And I Have A Tender Spot In

There Are Things To Be Learned Even From The Dead.

If I Look Back I Am Lost.

The Morning Air Was Dark With The Smoke Of Burning Gods.

Black Moleskin Gloves Covered His Hands; The Right Because It Was Burned, The Left Because A Man Felt Half A Fool Wearing Only One Glove.

I Take No Joy In Mead Nor Meat, And Song And Laughter Have Become Suspicious Strangers To Me. I Am A Creature Of Grief And Dust And Bitter Longings. There Is An Empty Place Within Me Where My Heart Was Once.