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!