adrian_
julie my beloved 🥰
with the coming of fall on the horizon, there is nothing more than sorrow on the mind of the human race within its final beating moments. the golden age had long since passed, and though it still brought itself to bear on the future, silver mandible locked against the tail of indignation against a cold night, it would not come back. the singing wind in the autumn breeze only brought a bittersweet relief to the inhabitants within, their hearts swelled with a knowledge that they would not find the truth in their actions within their life time.
and it hurt.
the pain was unimaginable, sharp, like a slap on the wrist. yet it decayed and magnified like a dying star. though this pain would never end, not until reality itself broke at the seams and collapsed upon all that existed. this star would not explode at the end of its life cycle. it would fizzle and crack, simply blackening at its core. no supernova, no final message to all those who survived.
and they thought to themselves in that unending final moment, just why had they been forced to find that they were to endure this accursed death? why them? was there not a contender to be sought for such a punishment? no one who deserved such an ending?
there was not.
there was not one living conscience, whether human or godly who deserved such a cruel lashing of a decay. there was comfort in that thought, though minimal. this death brought madness to its champion, they had found themselves lost in its embrace, unable to think of anything other than it. day in and day out, the champion found himself discussing the subject insularly.
no one human being other than himself had the ability to handle the truth. no one human being could suffer it. this was his superhuman ability, to survive the most crushing of defeats. he could not thrive, no. but he could survive it. and the champion spoke that creed to himself regularly, doing his best to stave off the wolves of death. these wolves pushed against him, teeth bared against an unwilling invader.
he found himself howling in pain, the wolves knew they would win soon, and the supernova loomed on his horizon. he found himself hoping for it, face beaming to face it finally. his merciless gods had finally allowed him the ability to escape it. but the wolves pulled against him, ravenous hunger ordering them to make him suffer.
his torch flickered in the falling leaves, slashing against the wolves defiantly, and the trees were lit ablaze in his thrashing, the only normalcy he had known, the falling leaves, was now set to embers in the wind.
the wolf had finally prevailed. and it was a pyrrhic victory. they wouldnt even allow him this final privilege. and so he weeped. he weeped in the fall air. his tears cultivated the soil, and the soil took up arms in the creation of grass. and the sun.
the sun.
the sun beat down, warming his frail body, it was the last comfort. the heavens spoke to him and uttered their apologies for his delay. they asked for forgiveness in his stead, hoping that he would not be angered by their standby.
it would be such a long time until he would be permitted within. but he knew it would be beautiful when it happened. and so he endured. he was the last line of defense against the bleak night. he would not let out his supernova until he was happy with his actions. he would not allow himself to burn out until the wolves died off.
and there was finally hope.
this sliver of hope held the heart and minds of a thousand generations who believed in his mission. they believed that he could complete this, even if it meant sacrificing his mind for it.
and he sighed.
and it hurt.
the pain was unimaginable, sharp, like a slap on the wrist. yet it decayed and magnified like a dying star. though this pain would never end, not until reality itself broke at the seams and collapsed upon all that existed. this star would not explode at the end of its life cycle. it would fizzle and crack, simply blackening at its core. no supernova, no final message to all those who survived.
and they thought to themselves in that unending final moment, just why had they been forced to find that they were to endure this accursed death? why them? was there not a contender to be sought for such a punishment? no one who deserved such an ending?
there was not.
there was not one living conscience, whether human or godly who deserved such a cruel lashing of a decay. there was comfort in that thought, though minimal. this death brought madness to its champion, they had found themselves lost in its embrace, unable to think of anything other than it. day in and day out, the champion found himself discussing the subject insularly.
no one human being other than himself had the ability to handle the truth. no one human being could suffer it. this was his superhuman ability, to survive the most crushing of defeats. he could not thrive, no. but he could survive it. and the champion spoke that creed to himself regularly, doing his best to stave off the wolves of death. these wolves pushed against him, teeth bared against an unwilling invader.
he found himself howling in pain, the wolves knew they would win soon, and the supernova loomed on his horizon. he found himself hoping for it, face beaming to face it finally. his merciless gods had finally allowed him the ability to escape it. but the wolves pulled against him, ravenous hunger ordering them to make him suffer.
his torch flickered in the falling leaves, slashing against the wolves defiantly, and the trees were lit ablaze in his thrashing, the only normalcy he had known, the falling leaves, was now set to embers in the wind.
the wolf had finally prevailed. and it was a pyrrhic victory. they wouldnt even allow him this final privilege. and so he weeped. he weeped in the fall air. his tears cultivated the soil, and the soil took up arms in the creation of grass. and the sun.
the sun.
the sun beat down, warming his frail body, it was the last comfort. the heavens spoke to him and uttered their apologies for his delay. they asked for forgiveness in his stead, hoping that he would not be angered by their standby.
it would be such a long time until he would be permitted within. but he knew it would be beautiful when it happened. and so he endured. he was the last line of defense against the bleak night. he would not let out his supernova until he was happy with his actions. he would not allow himself to burn out until the wolves died off.
and there was finally hope.
this sliver of hope held the heart and minds of a thousand generations who believed in his mission. they believed that he could complete this, even if it meant sacrificing his mind for it.
and he sighed.
