Now, it seems to me I have seen the universe of time complete its round: and the universe passes to dust.

We, the human ones, enter the dusts, and do not emerge again.

We bear the dust, and call it power.

We crave the dust, believing it power.

We hug the dust, and we hug power.

We consume the dust, thinking it power.

We produce the dust, seeking power.

And power is the dust.

This is the fate of the human Way.

This is the story of Zysoshin dai:ekon, believed to be the powerful one, ShaDhim.

Now, my prophecy is complete: I will say no more. All this has been a swoon of reasonable mind, and the life of dreams. But on the dream is the mind constructed. Poor, poor human mind.

I am the voice of Sokosozuin on:naro, who wears the Gram of the White of Drifting Clouds, shion of the blessed Seashell Mark, a man of Subtle Rank. I end.

Believe what you will, and be what you will. And may your Way be peaceful.