Is it by your awareness that my misery visits me?
I once believed that it was Apollo's might that chased my phantom scrapers into the mists each dawn. That is, until my thoughts ventured into that dark canvas to find a moonless sky, and my metropolis was no where to be found.
I called out to them; only the beating of *his* heart answered from beside me, and the shadowy ridges of the far-off mountains remained still and unblinking.
Very well, your majesty. I shall meet you in my dreams.