#dread

"One more time? For the audience?"he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go."

"Now hollow fires burn out to black,And lights are fluttering low:Square your shoulders, lift your packAnd leave your friends and go.O never fear, lads, naught’s to dread,Look not left nor right: In all the endless road you treadThere’s nothing but the night."