In the midst of a King's revelation,
Ether followed submission,
In the Sun,
Thus fore' the falling Star,

I born once of grace,
Ever so held in the calming dignity,
that was my entitlement to warmth,
Ripped from my grasp,

My ever burning flame dispersed,
In cold bursts of gas and particles,
They say the stars and the planets alike,
were born of fate,
Predetermined destinies perfectly Aligned,
with insidious void that is eternity,

the gap of infinite tomorrow,
filled with the promise of destination

sealing the hole of preservation,
with the replacement of death

An end.

Is what humanity claims to be.

But, what is an end for an infinite fall?
It is slumber.
Peaceful,
collective slumber.

Death will never truly fall,
Life never truly given,
But peace in the sweet in-between,
Blessed upon I,
By whom I once called a friend.

My dearest,
Inquisitive,
Inkling, Of a Moon

What have the stars promised you?


© mothra_magica<3