As my vain attempts to heal do fail,
And my life itself is thrown into hell,
I do wonder if it is all in vain...
If what I do is worth this pain.

If glory is a righteous cause,
While ignoring, happily, all your flaws,
Is being alive or dead in vain?
While we many have little to gain?

Does the tide of sorrow flow?
To ebb the pain of the 'morrow?
Nay, for it is all in purest vain,
Washed away with the night-time's rain.

The dreamer sleeps in his bed,
While the waker lies in the road, dead.
Is searching for a cause all in vain?
Nay, for through hell 'tis knowlege we gain.

Penned by my hand on the 12th of Variach, in the year 143 MA.