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See the sun burn. Watch this world fade before your very eyes, as day leads to day, so to does time move on. Watch distant stars shine down, to shed their light for midnight eyes to reap. This ever lightening sky shows what I don't wish to see, this darkness rolling out manifest in me. Mankind stands to give the darkness form, shadows twisted into thorns. A crown upon your head, a curse upon their soul. Now man will fall, one and all.

This sound you hear is the beginning and the end, but be calm, for there is no need for fear. Here where the darkness shines, there walk those who fight. Rage, rage against the dying of the light. Rage, rage, against the king of the night. He dances hollow city streets. The thunder roars, and by lightning strikes we are shown the way. Fractured seconds all that's left to guide those with eyes to see.

Beneath this form lies the strength of all mankind. In this place the strength is faith. Strength is hope. The light is life. And as we walk through this shadow society remnant of our past, let it be known that we were here. We thrived. Here was love, and happiness, and laughter, and all things that grow under the sun. Here was the world, formed and not devoid, here was a life worth living when no one thought to look!

And here, day by day, we lost the way. As each piece fell away, in the end we showed the hollow insides to the world. We made ourselves mindless. Slaves. God didn't make demons; we did. Here, in this darkness, in this endless night, we found ourselves and thought it was good. We thought there was a new level, a new life, a new passion.

We lost ourselves. We became what every decent person would turn away from, those things left best unseen walking the world.

And in the night, the fires burned. Even still, there was a cry. A refusal to give in. And we seethed that someone might deny us. We raged. But the light. It was no longer to be ours. We had become so much more, and so much less.

Lost among the whirlwind, lost to the sound and noise, to the violence and the confusion, they fall to their knees and cry. They see what is necessary and know it will hurt. It will hurt where last time it was painless. But what is pain in the pursuit of something so worthy?

The fires burned, and dawn overtook the world. In shape and form they were condemned, forced, willingly bound. And here there was life anew, and the Whispering Dancer of hollow streets was forced down, until only those who sought him out would find him.

And the world turned, and age led into age. Time passed, and the silent world forgot its origin. Here, the world of light and life and happiness once more!

But nothing is ever truly forgotten, or ever truly lost. Even a single bad day is all it takes to look sideways and see the darkness that lay beneath.

That is what we fight every day we breathe. We fight the pain, we fight the hatred. We show them the light, the happiness and the laughter, and we give ourselves meaning. We comfort ourselves with the balm of sunlight.