I am now a broken machine.
                    - Carl Maria Von Weber (1786-1826)

I want to be home before my breath gives
out. I want to see Lina and my son.
Dear God, I must breathe in the sweet Dresden
air, warm and dry in June. A man who lives
for music dies into the same silence
as one who lives for God or sword. My work
is done. There is nothing beyond the dark
to fear, nothing to lose. The opulence
of oblivion seems heaven to me
as my feet swell, my hands shake and I reek.
I am the color of wheat. Lifeblood leaks
from me everywhere and now I can see
sleep is no use. It is time for me to
begin the journey. I came here to earn
money for my family but I yearn
for one thing only. Bring me home to you.