After self-flagellation that exhausted the soul's energies, an estrangement characterized by the loss of passion and the erosion of its internal struggle, and the roaring of raging storms and erupting volcanoes without words and in striking silence. In the corners of all this, we found no path we did not cross, no road we did not walk, and no dream we had long dreamed in waking slumber, while warning the soul not to be dragged into the consequences of a heart, mind, and conscience exhausted by empty contents, groaning alongside the limbs of a flabby body. It yearns for the soul to pass in peace and safety without fear of falling or stumbling, for hope is the title inscribed on this hope and this attempt, coupled with another caution against an ambiguous, mysterious environment, and the beautification of false appearances. We reasoned and relied upon God to move forward without contradiction or impulsiveness—this is if circumstances hold true and the soul achieves its goal and aspiration, even if it proves to be a fragile station like its predecessors.
The soul has cleared that wish from its conscience. It was nothing more than one last attempt. It was marred by all crises we thought had passed and gone. We pinned all our hopes on it, and prepared for it provisions matching the scale of our innocent vision with a chastity through which our actions and dealings rise with a society from which we have estranged ourselves. The soul attained its sovereign independence therein against its will, despite knowing with absolute certainty—yet with doubt—of achieving a harmony that would restore the soul to its former self to practice its role as usual without dread, fear, or resentment, or facing the nightmare of encountering oneself alone.