To my sight, I see nothing but vermillion sand or whatever this bane is. Like the Egyptians, I too have been sent to the underworld with what I descended with. However, their caskets were of art and minerals; they bore jewels and medicines, whereas my tomb is merely wood and cloth. I thought because I could float above hades and below Athens, I could be immortal and pre-empt the epitaph and contrite apostles and disciples. Alas, I was wrong, terribly wrong, and now, I will forever reside in limbo, destined to spend my days in lament and chagrined. At least there is no searing and stifling sun peeling my flesh inchmeal. I do not know if these gloomy clouds are an omen of forthcoming torment or an innate and inherent champion of the one who grasps sovereignty over this lacuna, this “no man’s land.” I am yet to see another prisoner or an untrammeled man, or any entity whatsoever, this ground and clouds and whatever chemicals, molecules, microscopic pests, and atoms comprise them, notwithstanding. Is this my personal perdition or purgatory, will I ever be privy to such divine knowledge, I do not know. Will I see all that have fallen throughout time: the Tower of Babel, Sodom and Gomorrah, Carthage, the Assyrian Elephants, the Pharaohs, the fabled Trojans, King David and Solomon, the Mammuthus primigenius, or hope and morals. I soon shall abandon thyself: thy morals, hope, and overall character. Daft, I will become, addled and idle upon the ship, my terminal home. Long have I been devising an escape from this dungeon of nature and mind, but I am yet to find the key which could open the door, the portal of salvation. My semblance has become like an anemic, pale and frail. Let me dwell upon this ship eternally, for perhaps I deserve everlasting damnation; perhaps I ate the apple from the forbidden garden, perhaps I yielded fire to the wrong species, or perhaps I did not sacrifice enough to the sky and beyond. I have realized my fate and accept this great wind and storm which shall haunt me until I become no longer an amusing toy or an unscrupulous and unworthy servant. I bury myself in despair and hope my once exuberant self shall not be resurrected until the flowers bloom and the eagles fly overhead. The last testament and will lie beside me as a vestige and final account; if anyone should discover my corpse or dormant brain, the words which were written in thy blood will forgo all of thy secrets and my bones or jaundiced and wrinkly skin will reveal my languishing attempts to escape the labyrinth.