In this ordinary swoon as I pass from life to death, I feel no heat from the cold, pale moon; I feel no sympathy for breath. Who I am and why I came, I do not know; nor does it matter. The end of every man’s the same and every god’s as mad as a hatter. I do not fear the letting go; I only fear the clinging on to hope when there’s no hope, although I lift my face to the blazing sun and feel the greater intensity of the wilder inferno within me.