And so I soon mark my Twenty Sixth year,
though in truth I have lived but Twenty Five.

I rarely mark an occasion, all are soon forgotten,
their tame selves trapping their users to tales of mundanity.

But this occasion, an occasion of occasions,
marking years of life and a cycle begun; This cannot be ignored.

A year of death shall be marked, the days taken and forgotten,
for this is a year of broken aims and the scars they form.

So this time shall mark my Twenty Fifth year plus one of Death.

A cycle has begun, for no marking of time is finite while the bearer lives.

Four more times shall I strive under this barren sign, mark a full life,
but forever remember the four full years of death; they shall mark my mind.