In the dreary winter night, you must somehow find the will to survive. 
Time is an absent thing, and between miserly rebellion and suffering below the dead gales howl, you are the former. 
Under all circumstances, you must find the will to survive. 
The moon above can sing to you, but only once.
And in the time where she remains silent, you must find the will to keep going. 
In the husk of your destination, water has seethed so scarcely into the ground, the air is akin to sand suffocating the lungs. Trees and clouds are forgotten, for above, only hues of red rape the sky. 
The moon can guide you, too, but only there. 
Your eternity is a desolate one, but you have wrongfully reaped the virtues of the living world, evil has now corrupted your heart, and so here you must walk through the coals of chaos to reach your hollow prison cell. 
Do not abandon hope. 
Under all circumstances, you must find the will to survive.