Chapter Text
The world spins in a endless vortex gaping at the horrors it doesn’t understand
It moves, left and back, round and round, merrily on its way to the plate of what it doesn’t know.
Far more for the chance of salvation it seeks , not the one it would receive.
Alas, it is crude, too too foolish, to grasp at its abilities, to call upon those from beyond,
To create, to create, to create.
All it is that it moans about, no
It wants to remove, to destruct, to re animate-
But to only create? Never!
The Ones do understand, they truly choose to,
For it is best hope for their salvation as well.
And such, they weep, weep
in a broken cacophony of music that goes on and on,
And the world?
It listens, it hears to the ones who speak but hear-
It does not.
Yet, Grasping at the sheer kinship of sorrows,
It stays, stays , stays until life ends,
Until time turns obsolete,
Until all starts again;
Like flies attracted to an arachnid’s webs-
Unwavering in its ways that it not knows
Witnessing the joys of the end in one go-
The old Ones do understand, they truly choose to,
And cry in such deceiving profanity one could never knew,
As naivety won’t let the world glean from it , ever so.
So it listens to the pleas that withstand words from it,
Merrily on its way onto the gaping vortex.