Where will we all stand when the violence comes to an end? Where will we all go when the weapons are put to rest? What will become of all of us when all that remains following these trying times is nothing but Cataclysms and Crisis. This world has long since been spiraling out of control, and now, as sure as the setting sun – our last day’s have arrived. For it is during these last day’s that our every morning is dark, met with a dimly lit sun, one that only rises to announce the coming of the darkest of nights – a constant reminder that no matter what, we cannot be saved. We are too late.
I once put my faith into things that had always swore to exist forever. But when I awoke, I was made aware that all had fallen – or perhaps I have been here much longer than ‘forever’ itself, ever intended to be. It matters not the case, for now, I am strapped from head to toe in armor, as I war alongside shadows – fighting for a future I may very well not be apart of. This fighting has gone on for so long, that I have begun to witness the decay of the shadowed forces that have fallen. I can smell the stench of decaying life, I can feel the final breaths being drawn – a letting go of this damned life, an acceptance for something new.
Our place in this war is looking bleak, morose with each passing hour. For I know now that, more than ever before, this night that all are fearing so heavily is closing in on us, it is beckoning and soon we will be wiped out entirely. But until the alarms rings loud that we have lost, I will continue to fight on with the little remaining strength left in my all for those who have fallen before me. For those who have so strongly yearned, much like I, to be set free from this damned age, for those who wish to float off, with nothing but memories of vast and seemingly infinite landscapes in mind – shrouded by a newer dawn.