schrodingersroot

Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, That echoes in my mind; And lights the path to find a peace, I never thought I'd find. Commit them to the hallowed ground, And hallowed memory, And let their music echo on, In silent symphony. Too short the days, too long the nights, That we should walk this land, Before the Spectre comes to us, And takes us by the hand, To places where no shadows fall, And strife can touch us not; And leads our bodies to the forge, In stars to be rewrought. Eternity reigns in a place, That we may never reach; And Time seems as a stalwart wall, Impossible to breach. But Love can reach the farthest shore, And scale the

The sun rose over the field. This would be the Last Time. The golden father burned away at the mist, which clung like phantom tendrils to the ground. The silence was unnaturally thick...impenetrable. Nothing dared break it. No whisper of a breeze disturbed the blades of grass. No creature trod upon the ground. No insect cut the stillness of the air. As the orb of fire overhead laboriously climbed to its peak, it bore down with an intensity that surpassed even the passions of men. It beat down like some angry war god, bent on utter domination. Stillness, even yet, refused to be broken. And the daystar began the long, slow, descent into night.

tonight moving        through between the pillers        an ocean of hercules        of asphalt far off in the distance, twin embers glow