A dull gray doom in every hour passing. I slip back into the warm memory of waking; the last warm moment I remember before I stretched my hand out into the cold. I think I could sleep forever on the wing of a butterfly, fluttering on the eyelid of heaven. Above the blue earth my eyes behold to see: Judas is a brother to me. And all this pain of being will be lost forever from our memory. For even we deserve some kindness for all our misery.