Rest in the peaceful shroud of unknown tomorrows. May the languid winds of unformed futures gently smooth your weary brow. Too long have you worried over the unnamed monsters of the morrow; turning desperately this way and that to thwart them. Morning's harsh light may part the mist and reveal to you the fearful outlines of Scylla and Charybdis. But here, now, in these final hours of rest welcome the sweet shrouding fog of unknown futures. Scylla's slashing teeth cannot steal your slumber from you. Neither can Charybdis change your course this final night of sightless sleep. Inevitable fate awaits you, World, one man, or even many being powerless to change it. Fate, ah The Fates, there is no room for fear in the unfamiliar future they have fixed for you. Mist will rise, the shroud will part and tomorrow you will stride forth boldly into the fray, the fight, the future. Tomorrow, deeds having been done, the course of the future will unfurl before you in all its fury. Scylla and Charybdis will greet you and the terrible consequences of the course set before you will be plain to see. Tonight, embrace the twilight of unrevealed tribulations. Lay fear aside, thank all the stars that you were not born into Cassandra's curse and gather the dusk around you in the final slumber in the blissfully unknown future ahead of you.