They say, do not go gentle into that good night. I drift, searching as I go, for the same frequency—for a place where breaths flow freely, for the harbor where wandering souls anchor.

I burn with a flickering flame, I turn and surrender to sleep, I let go and lose myself in the vast unknown. And yet, I think of you, always with me.

Kowen’s Nova Tetralogy, Chapter Three: A journey through solitude and desolation, toward the light beyond.