Aeuwech, Truth Persistent


In the end,

Time is forsworn.



Corruption of odorous presence,

Seeps through the timeline,

Unknowingly grasping with fading talons;

The shadow of the future come to haunt the past.

Machinations of negation hum, focused.

They, above all things effectively,

Process that-which-is into was;

Ephemerality as commodity.

Though The Black Stain persists,

The Lord demands patience,

Holding at bay by divinity-pure,

The collective and consumptive sin of all.

Praise be to Him,

Who gathers his stray and shadowed children,

To hold and to whisper:

“Though my children may stray,

To their Father they shall find their way.”




In the end,

The Earth is reborn.


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