The sky, it presses against the horizon
Black smoke, almost solidified
Making the air heavy
My eyelids feel like stone
Or wood, perhaps
But either way the weight beckons to me, whispers to me to close my eyes.
I thought those dark clouds were oppressive? How wrong I was
They are soothing, a balm for the soul
A lullaby playing as my eyes get heavier
As my thoughts sink toward the ground and take root, like a tree does
I sit here, and for a thousand years I would gladly sit here,
Unhindered by troubling trifles like the warnings my father issued

…My father…

The Golden Land's spell falls away as I remember that man
And though he is a world away, I imagine I see him
Huddled in a corner, stained with tears,
Weeping for a son that could never come home
Haunted in his dreams by a phantom flute
Hounded by that melody he pretended not to care for
(He never fooled me; I knew he enjoyed listening)
My heart prickles like it's been cut by a thorn
I want to cry, to beg forgiveness for all the wrongs I had done that poor man
The last of which chokes me like a vice:
I had left Hyrule behind without saying goodbye.

I want to cry, but this form will not permit me.
I want to stand, want to find my way back home, but my limbs will not obey me.
The darkness is pressing again; it is comforting me in my sorrow
A warm feeling fills my brain, and it gets difficult to think
I feel myself taking root again, and this time I feel something changing

Forgive me, Father. I'm sorry.