This is a prayer that I once overheard in the Shadow Quarter of Oneiropolis.
O forces of the unseen world,
I know not whether you exist,
Or whether I speak to the cruel void.
But if despite my fear,
And my unspoken certainty,
There are those who listen above:
Let there yet be days
Of sunshine and music
In homes untouched by death
While the scent of youth still lingers.
Let my journey prove fruitful
Before the cold night comes.
The translation is a little rough, as few of the languages of Earth have the subtlety of the ancient words spoken in Oneiropolis, but nevertheless it has often been on my mind lately.