An answer will come, to those who ask for it incessantly, for they had enough will.
The Penitent walks his sorrowful, yet needed, path to the end.
Quietly he admires what his eyes can witness, in solitude his mind rests; his bleeding heart never ceases to wait.
"Feathers fell... like leaves from a tree,
Blood ran... like water from a sea.
Angels cried... as the rain poured;
Feathers fell... they'll fall no more..."
