There comes a time when the cold no longer makes you cold. There’s a place beyond all these pains and these mortal throes. I’ve walked along the cold, grey shores of Nyx and have recrossed the rolling river Styx.
My memories, gone; they take them from you there, but love, it always lasts, and I know that we’re a pair.
My reasons only make you tired,
my means unmake your mind;
in fear and anguish mired,
to sleep is death; this pain is kind.
And I remember, as like a dream, how much you meant to me. So, shadows weep.
Tale Told 