My soul w
                  i
                   t
                     h
                        e
                         r
                          e
                           ­ d and frail beckoning the
yearnings of  times once passed. Now deceased
the turning of moments beckoning me to the
well, for when I pass death will throw me in
and I will s
                   i
                       n
                          k into oblivion, another token
of moments now lost to the waters I descend within.