A deep hunger
For life’s wine
Sends me into the night

Twilight was at its end, and my internal screaming began.  I clutched my head against the cravings, begging God to let me go of this eternal screech I had to bear.  
I had to find it.  Life’s wine.  The cries of a thousand hungry souls demand what they know I can give, and they don’t care if it is against my will.

The cold nips at my heels
As I search for what I need

I could bear it no longer.  I had to run and find it.  Life’s wine.  
I got up and began to run.  I was weak; I had gone so long without what I needed to live.  I searched amongst the treetops for the symbol that led to life’s wine.  But in the darkness, I could barely see because it was so dark, and I was so low.  Chills ran through me as the screaming only became more desperate and I wanted to fall.

I hear its call
Roaring through my ears

I had found it once before, but how could I have left it again?  This feeling of pain would make any fool think I would have learned, but somehow, I never did seem to learn.  But this time I would not leave what would leave me to die if I did not choose it again.

I can almost taste it
As my tongue slips over sharp teeth

I can see the symbol, the white marble bright against the evening sky.  The four ends leading me, like the X on a pirate’s map.  Branches would cut me, roots would trip my feet, but this was too important to see the blemishes I was receiving.  I had to reach it.

Search over
I take only what I need

Finally, the door was in sight.  No one was around to see me, and the door was unlocked.
Desperate, I entered.  My eyes immediately fell upon the glass decanter that held life’s wine.
I did not look for a cup; I drank it from the decanter with grace.  Not a drop left my lips, and I only drank a few sips.  The crying and wailing ceased into slumber, and the agony had left me.  
But not a second did I put down that fragile treasure that I heard the footsteps of this remedy’s keeper.  I ran.

The keeper will sleep a dream
Thinking I am just a phantom
When he wakes tomorrow morning

I was far from the door, but I felt his eyes upon me.  I could not feel if it was out of anger or longing, but I did not care.  I was still afraid.  By tomorrow he would have possibly forgotten about me, and I would have to face the next night in fear of going back.
If only I didn’t fear…

I have lived many ages
And still
I must drink life’s wine to live