Pandora’s box once closed gave birth to man’s endless hope. Promises of spring whispered sweetly, only to fall like autumn leaves. Wheeling life’s great wheel with restless zeal, man—his hopes, his cares, his feelings— slowly felt their edges cut him deep. Then one dawn arrived. Reason ripened. Faith took flight. and the Overcomer came into sight. To him life is no brawl— neither a sun-scorched day nor an endless crimson night. It is the calm delight of flying beneath a spotless sky. Hail to the Overcomer, who sees the vast world as nothing. Hail to the Master Idler, for whom even blinking is a burden. Hail to the lonely night, that through the world’s indifference comes quietly to where he rests.