A nightmare of cold blasts sear through my weakened flesh, and like knives of hardened steel they puncture my very essence. And as the ground reddens from my loss of blood, I come to know that the weight of this day has grown dire.
Death-bound, but without fear, Life and Death are but illusions. Non-existence is but a concern of the extant.
Oh, you vicious winds, lay me out so I may gaze upon that sky I've loved for the whole of my life. And let me also gaze upon the Great Mountain, That I should know it as my only God.
The sky fades into a grayish blue, And the Great Mountain has taken the form of a wall of crystal white. And should it be true that these are my dying thoughts; Grant me the strength to declare that under no other sky, would I rather have lived, And before no other mountain Would I rather have held awe!