He asked of the night, what is it that you see – it replied with silence and not a whisper more. In the dying hours of its solitude the mist gripped it and made all blind apart from those who dared stick their head out of it.
He asked the night again, what is it that you see – it replied not but an uneasy silence again issued from its bowels. There was now a break in the mist, not just, and as soon as you could think you could make sense, it came back with a reforged thickness losing you in utter hopelessness again.
It was the longest night of his life and he had no notion of its end – for if there were to be an end, he was unsure if it would be his or the nights. He mustered up the courage one last time and asked with a squeaky shrill voice for his courage left his as soon as the words left his mind. What is it that you wish me to see? – He was replied again with a silence – but for a minute or two and than the mist cleared up as soon as it came to be. A shinning ray fell upon him with its warmth – and than he saw about him that there was night no more.