All humans are bound with their passion and what they live for is something they refuse to die for

The moonlight dapples over over,

The sorrow of the sleepless people,

Their soul in torment,

Their hearts in pain,

For in the very depth of their being,

They refuse to let go,

Of the fraying rope,

That connects them to mortality,

Dreams still run through their veins,

Their blood still warmed by passion,

Their hearts beat painfully,

To strive towards the improbable,

The hourglass has long run out of sand,

But Atropos cannot cut the thread,

That binds humanity with fantasy,

For nothing can break that ardor.

The End

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