To repair or rebuild means that one must be broken, Or that a problem must be understood and accepted.
A disoriented explorer finds himself lost on an island. He is quick to search for answers to his misadventures, But does not ponder how he reached such an abundance of sand and highland.
The deeper one digs, the harder one will reject forgiveness, For the angelic lotus blooms only from muddied roots.
A cave is sighted, venturing deep into the terrain. The explorer crosses the threshold with no reluctance, Unwavering persistence against the brush and grain.
It is uncertain which is harder for one process, Forgetting to remember or remembering to forget.
These words lay engraved on a wall for the explorer to follow, Unable to be disregarded or misinterpreted, As if he were expected to find it in this cavern so hollow.
Strength in oneself stems not from one's solution, But understanding the root of one's fallacy.
As the explorer continues to neglect the writings of a past era, He reaches the end of the seemingly perpetual nightmare, The final words towering above him: Morte Aeterna.
A disoriented explorer finds himself lost on an island, Only he was not lost against his will,
For he is unable to recognize this incessant loop awoken. He remained lost as he wouldn’t let himself be found, As he wouldn’t accept himself to be broken.