Unturned, unshaken and unmoved.
Through all things, my will has proved, an undying devotion.
Rooted in, and planted down.
No matter how many smiles and frowns, my soul does not move around.
Beyond the rage, beyond the sorrows, and threats of hate.
Through all those things, my will has proved my fate, an infinite devotion.
No ails, no afflictions too great,
These knees do not bend, and with it a loyalty that does not end.
Regardless of storms, and the earthquakes that try to shake me. Through it all, one thing will forever and always be, my devotion is both abundant and free.
I am The Devoted, the purest expression of unity.
Embrace the sun, for nothing is everlasting.
In time, all light fades.
No soul, no man, no thing is beyond its passing.
Look to the stars, and know that their light is dead.
Distant, cold and lifeless husks whose legacy is far from the truth. The lie, the hands that are red, stained with the illusions.
Encumbered by the dishonest, and false portrayals.
Into the dusk, all things tread.
The candle, like passion burns brightly in the night air, but burns away at a moment’s notice as if never even there.
Coming into fruition are all the things that were never meant to be.
The simple anomalies, the blatant denials and rejections, an imposed reality.
Culminating ruination speaks as loudly as it speaks clear.
Utterances of the things none wish to fall upon their ears, but the course is set.
Stay the course, and do not forget.
The feelings of the leaving moments, the fleeting nature of all things, and the inevitable finality.
Clouds roll in from all walks of the earth, block out the sun, and dominate.
Their power is subtle, but not completely unknown.
Nature responds, and it’s animals flee and seek shelter from the storm not yet come.
The mists blanket the lands, consuming all in endless gray. It is thick enough to rob the sight of the sharpest eyes.
No remorse, no mercy, only its complete control.
All are slaves to its grasp.
Desolation, solitude, suffocating confinement.
The skies begin to roar.
They are crying for reasons unexplained.
The sky’s tears flow, and flow freely into infinity, drenching all in their sorrow.
The small, weak, and slow are caught in the resulting floods, drowned and crushed by the rushing waters.
They never stood a chance.
Turbulent torrents sweep over all, devouring relentlessly like the gluttonous man— no restraints.
A hideous being so engorged that it has morphed beyond all recognition, and has abandoned all humanity. Forsaking beauty for its ugly and wicked form, such is the way of the storm.
Lights streak across the sky, from sorrow to rage, and from rage is born an unspeakable hatred.
Tears no longer flow, and instead the sky lashes out in its new found fury. Fires erupt where the rains failed to reach.
Nothing is safe, nothing is pure, nothing untouched.
Betrayed and defiled by the seemingly gentle heavens.
Cursed, kicked, and burned by the very sky whose beauty knew no end. A demon in an angel’s garb.
Allure is the tool of the despicable, used to crippling effect, as the Earth would know.
Ravaged, washed, and stripped bare by its now once known companion-turned-adversary.
Closest friends to complete strangers at a glance.
Once deeply intertwined, now acknowledging the wrongfully imposed separations of heaven and earth.
The skies quiet, the fury appears to retreat.
The tears flow once more, and the lament of the stars bleeds out over the lands.
Toxic, and sickening.
Their pain is fully realized in every single drop.
The flames are quelled, but the damage is done.
The scorched earth is not washed clean.
Instead, the mournful stream fuses with the ashes of hatred, breeding the black sludge of regret.
It is a bile unlike any other, the worst poison known by any being, both mortal and divine.
The disease spreads, carried by the misleadingly gentle winds.
Deception reigns once more.
The plague soon reaches every inch of land under the gray-owned sky, and by nightfall, the pitch had claimed the earth before ascending skyward. Blackness over all— a throne left in waiting— now claimed by the seemingly rightful king…
Distant, the faintest sound.
Alone, and away from the crowd.
Tears stain these sunken cheeks.
Sanity slips, madness peaks.
Starved, and deprived.
A husk left where life thrived.
The star of my galaxy, burned out and dead.
The black hole, the pit of the void left in it’s place consumes all.
Ripping, and tearing even light from the cosmos.
My end all, be all.
My King, my, Lord, and my God.
The warm embrace at night.
The faint comforting words that set me to sleep.
The failed remedy to scars etched deep.
The darkness looms, and is all that stays.
The loyal one in a world of many strays.
Hello darkness, my old friend.
The one I turn to when good things end.
Or rather the one I am forced to greet.
No matter where I run, it’s you I meet.
No arms to hold me tight, to shun the dark, and keep the light.
Distant, the faintest sound.
Alone, and away from the crowd.
The only other star in the galaxy, burned out and dead.
Leaving my weak light behind instead.
The shots come from around every corner.
Whizzing by, I try to duck and hide.
Death is in the air and I’m terrified.
Every step I make seems to be wrong.
Before I’m hit, it won’t be long.
The push away from what good is left.
Letting the broken stay broken in the end.
The shabby bridge I just can’t seem to mend.
No matter how much I suppress myself and try to bend.
It feels like it’s over, but I don’t want it to be.
I’m scraping the bottom of the empty barrel, trying to hang onto eternity.
It doesn’t seem to be working.
My palms are sweaty and my voice is coarse.
My eyes are blind, and my head is spinning.
I keep on fighting, but there doesn’t seem to be a chance of winning.
It’s hard to let go, and then let go.
It’s hard to be good, and not know.
On opposite ends, and separate flows…
When the world comes crashing down, who will be there to catch it?
When the seas run dry, will you be there to refill them, or will the tears be the source?
When the forests die, how will the world breathe?
Can trembling hands plant new seeds?
When the world starts to fall, who will pick it up and help it turn again?
When the volcanoes roar, will you be there to calm its rage, or will deaths be the sedative?
The mountains crumble away, and the dust spreads on winds that soon die.
Chaos rules, and discord thrives. Order lost with broken ties.
When the world ends, does it ever start again?
Does the void consume all within?
When the darkness wins, who will let the light be?
Will it be you, when it can’t be me?