This incomprehensible, elusive vision of Night, unknowable unfathomable as the closing of man s eternal sweet repose. Each man perceives death through a glass stained with individual understanding. Whether they await fate with feverish unease or complacent acceptance, she will play before their eyes for them to taste, to smell, to touch their own demise until it becomes a reality. They will know nothing but her gentle hand, feel nothing but her chill breath against their skin, and see only what she desires them to see. The strong will see within her eyes a peace for which they have longed all their lives, a release from the hardship of mortality.
Death is man s inevitable fate.
She will see that each retires in a fashion that they themselves desire. While a thousand upon thousand images flicker, ever so random, yet guided by an unseen hand, countless lifetimes pass and repass. These lights sparkle and fade, glimmer and die, so numerous they fall away unnoticed at the close of the day, unheeded. And yet every worry plays out his final episode in the weary depths of men s minds before departing In peace. Every inconsequential apprehension plagues him, as man endeavors to overcome ending with night, come the dawn shall they ever be reborn, and Reborn again.