To inexistence,
You called unto me. Whether I answered, I know not. I'm stuck here upon this gargantuan monolith, as the earth reaches its aphelia. I closed my eyes and let the noumenon of the rain falter slowly. Thus in Zephyr's sough its cries of droplets are cradled past the faint brontide heralded by the tempest above. This paragon of empyrean thralldom, the zenith of the maelstrom that could never be calmed, could only grow stronger, despite every vindictive schism that spawned under the crepuscular flames of the setting sun. The victims. They call out helplessly and ceaselessly from within the brooding paradigm they hemmed themselves within, Reaching towards Elysium, towards a false halcyon that once blanketed them under the warmth of the noon. But it was nothing more than an ephemera.
~Yours truly, Deathless
