"The sharp mind slices through the rain, better than any blade. I was there, faring poor through my storm. Blades of a cunning snake, seeking prowess above all. Does a soul still cry in a steady blade? The screams of many become screams of none, in such a world where no one is known. Indeed, I bear life like a peach. Deep within is a seed seeking to grow. He said change is no ambrosia. So what is it I seek to find? Everything, ever-changing. Strangers walk among me, live within me. They seek to know me too. Yet none know themselves. Or is that a storm only I bear? Something in these words is true. The man I'm becoming. The obscure path I seldom tread with ease. These lives stand before me. They don't see that death is coming. Change is coming. Change makes us all bleed."