Prologue

<br>"Sometimes he knows his present being just a result of former voyages, journeys<br>odysseys to scenes revealing to him facilities of which existence he better<br>should not have heard of. The legend, to him of another "what is known" Sharon<br>addressed her sadness about the anaesthetised composed melody lurking in the<br>aura of the distance, prepared to be set free in the timespace from a touch of<br>a deed to its execution; in the morning a limb of the fairylands, at sundown<br>he belonged to the blind characters occupying the fools` basis.<br><br>Can this be true?<br><br>A star so wise now reads the moon<br>After lifetimes in his stealthy glance<br>Meanwhile a scholar, a patron one...<br><br>He observes the sparks again. The sparks perceive his willingness.With the will he drifts away, surely on his way towards home,<br><br>Because home is where he sold his skin."<br><br>"So obscure the sand.<br><br>As an eldest sinner<br>On the Orphan planet<br>I was meant to bleed<br>My roots - And I bled my roots<br><br>Into<br>the<br>out<br>of<br>my<br>strength.<br><br>So godless the veil of morass.<br>So spoken, the blood on my wishes.<br>A melancholy withers why<br><br>I saw Wolvesmoon"