Was it all real, 

what was said in the night?

Words sound different in the morning. 

But isnt the Romantic the one who knows right? 

He is the one who sees clearly 

that other world moving through us. 

Believe the heights, believe the depths;

it is the banality of the middle ground that lies, 

not the joy of the morning or the pain of the night. 

I must cling to what is real!

I am afraid of forgetting - I cannot! 

But how to prevent it? 

How do I protect myself from the Enemy? 

He wants me too. 

What is at stake? 

My own soul, could there be more?

But I do not know how to do it - 

How do I submit?

What now?