Wet and exhausted, Receiver searched the shore endlessly. A great albatross with feathers like the petals of white lilies followed him, pecking at him until he was tired and bloody. So also did the little Nameless wolves bother, bite, and tire him. As he tired more, the powerful and magical albatross of the Sea of Death perched on him and covered him with its great petaled wings, smothering. Though he first fought for all his life, the albatross was so strong and overwhelming that finally Receiver wished he would just die there, and have no more of the earth or the universe.

He began to die, and even relish it since it would release him, and it's true that at the final seconds of all death there's a moment when ecstasy and joy begins to pave the way to the secret world of shades and shadows, light and release of death.

The great albatross then gathered driftwood from the beach of the Sea of Death and made a pile for a funeral fire, and dragged Receiver to it.

Why repair the sleep of death
if life is only lengthened
with dying dreams,
broken by our own hands?

Daily tired of struggled bread,
we refuse it dry,
like required love,
insulted by excess demand.

Can we refuse life for eternity,
or will we only walk down
the endless words
of the Nameless again,
all the forever days
that eternal life tires.