Envoy of the End

I'm afraid of what it means. The long and wild night draws near. It steals our sweet and delicate sovereignty, and what binds us together. Our time is quickly running out. I've stalled for too long and for what? One more drop of precious naivete? The expectation is unsettling, as we bend but don't break. I'm afraid of the reckoning and what it means. When I thought the sun would never set. I've been dreading this moment, a moment that I hope to soon forget. It's stealing our undeniable resolve. I hope to survive this long night. It cascades beyond your familiar gaze, and obscures what time we have left. Under the heavy demands of devotion we falter, we pray, we submit. Now come what may. But the promise of respite remains unfulfilled. The beauty of our innocence has withered away. There is no more time to squander. I'm afraid of what this means. When hearts so pure are ill-fated, and hope becomes such a fragile thing. As the long and wild night draws near.