We are each one of us born in darkness
And thence shall we disbelievingly go
When life's delicate flickering brightness
Ceases finally and for all time to glow

The world presents itself as a riddle
The somber solution to which is will;
Life withers away and mountains shrivel
As it seeks only its desires to fulfill

Never is it totally satisfied,
Leaving pain and misery as its mark;
To overcome willing some have tried
But none can halt the march of the Long Dark

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