Yes, it was the reason that I felt, it was that I am being embraced by those waves. You who do not understand how it feels to be in vain. Nor you do not understand how it feels to be alone. No.., you do not understand what I am trying to say.
And yes, maybe for now, I am alone. And can I see myself in picture of someone? When I look at the mirror, is that what I see.., my face? The deep truth of those lies and silliness. And you.., you do not understand.
Like a wayfarer, I am trying to close the doors. But it seems that the fate I chose is opening the windows. Can I carry on? When will the rain stop on me and shower me with her fortunes?
When I dream, I dream of endless goodbyes. I dream of sufferings and loneliness. Darkness. All I can see is a lit of light. It's the same light I am looking for, but the more I plunge towards it, the more it becomes dimmer until I realize it was only an illusion.
Yes, you do not understand. How could you say it is alright when you do not understand. Can you live where I live? Can you bear insanity? Dark and sad, it's all I can see. You cannot go where I am and you can't be.
Go back. yes little soul, where your father is waiting. Be not like me. For I chose to be doomed and yesterday may not be like tomorrow. But today is another reason. It's another picture that tells the story of a painter's life. Go back from where you started. And there you will see the path that leads to your victory.
Be it from me. The walls are breaking and the towers are crashing. The houses are burning in fire, just like the light in my heart...my heart that was wrought since the start of war.
Yes, be it from me. For my soul will remember thy kind face, affection and gentleness. For my life is falling like that of a Wormwood Star. Someday, you'll soon forget that we met. But be it from me, e'en just in thy dreams that you might remember this weary face that's looking at the dream like images above.
You can beat them all. But in your heart you know you may not. You can draw a star to live on and paint it with those radiant colors. But how long can you make and bear all these? When will your masterpieces be, like the epilogue of a cunning novel somewhat show the reality? But all the musicians' songs are the songs of the deads, the rustling of pale leaves and the whisper of winds.
And yes, can you paint that blue for me? I can see how fashionable those waves maybe. Someday they would rise, and then they would fall. And when though had they gone? Why, since they went to the darkness and were seen no more.
In my tomb, they would see no single rose nor a bud of a brier. Or they may not see the tomb at all. Otherwise, the stars will fall and burn it, or the ground will shake and swallow it. For the sea will soon be gone and be no more.
I can see, it was the painting of a cold, serene day. And as of now, the sea does not look dangerous. I can still see the towering masts of those great sailing ships and the mountains seem calm and secure. The slight breeze ruffles the water and the flags flutter on the boats.
Wind is blowing east. I heard them whispering on my ears. Thousands of ships were launched and many had seen their deaths, but cowardly they hesitated to stop the war. Will you be engaged on them?
Go that ye may find your fate. Leave me with the siren of the sea, here in this forgotten place. Be it not known that nothing will be remembered. I am letting go and tonight I will feel the embrace of the waves. Will I dream of an endless journey? Will I feel the cold breeze? Look at the portrait of the heavens and may you fly in the midst of clouds, being lifted by feathers like that of an angel.
I can no longer bear the noises and my ears are getting tired of those cries. But be it from me, that the notes from my fingers may safely brought you into the cradle of that Peaceable Land. Remember the tale of the traveler, it was the life of the painter whose face allegorically shows a night light on that canvas.
May you leave with the gratitude of those poets lying in that cold place. May they know that a soul once tried to save that hungry land. That a brave living soul was put into the fangs of fervor death. May you be known little soul, entranced with the light of the moon, capturing the beauty of thy gentleness. Leave this somber place that I may submerged into the deepest pit of mankind's hole. Be not subjected to their selfish deeds. Those doubts will soon bid away.
Go, ye little soul. Be it from me. Leave the call of melancholy. Seek the place of hope and dignity. Hear the graceful songs of music made from those sounding boxes. Hear their sharp but gentle sound, then I may praise Above. Be not ye sober, you will no longer hear the cry of foolishness and cowardliness. The war will soon end.
I can't remember for I never promised of wasting my tears. After all, those will soon run dry, like that of the spring hidden above the mountains. But thy tears are more precious that the golds underneath. They are made to fall, sparkling, to glow brighter than the falling stars as ever than before. That they may hear the call of an innocent soul.
Be far from trouble. Hear my last words. May they understand, little soul, may you also. Go ye, and never come back. Go, little soul. Go that ye, the sole witness of this lonely planet's destiny may forget and that they may never know.
Luceia's Farewell- Be it from me
These are last words recorded from Luceia, the first princess of the planet Lucena, in the novel 'Mystic Galaxy.' In this excerpt, the princess is talking to a young man whose identity is being described as courageous little soul, which was also pertained to a painter. He was probably one of the princess' soldier, a close kin or maybe even her own son.
Though it seems that the two are not really close at each other the way the princess talked to him. But as the sympathetic words were chosen, it only shows the artistic side of the princess and it reveals her real feelings for the galaxy's destiny.