On this, the third night of the ritual -- the day I returned abundant with gifts and found the tribe completely empty -- I cry in prayer to Blessed Elua, bestowing these tears upon Earth, who bore his incarnate flesh out of the tears of the Magdaline mingled with the blood of Yeshua bin Yosef, suffering unto death on a Tiberian cross.

Out of desire, I form creative expression, and out of creative expression, yet more desire overflows. How can this continue without reaching the point of bursting?

I am lost now. Fully equipped, yet void. I have no tribe. Nothing to devote when devotion is rejected. No need to care when all that once existed to care for is either dead, going, or gone, within self or otherwise. No manifesting of food for a body that has lost its will to sustain any longer. No shelter without nurturing. Nothing to say, no inspiration to create, when desire's flame has died for lack of fuel. No music when voices are silent. As the Adventure transforms into yet another futile struggle against loneliness... Still, there is, no more.

Battery low. Time to die now. Over and out.

Music: Nightwish - Gethsemane