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The Inverted ParadoxThe great War!The great Drought! The great Plague! Three were the faces of God, that cracked the skin of both Earth and Man. Shriveled became the womb of the great Mother, and devoid. Wanting. And its worshipers weeped, scavenging the remnants of another time, gnawed to ruins by both winds and waves, sultriness and sand, tar and then fire. Taint and corruption grew to those holding the exalted means that brought the mass genocide. And the weak pleaded, then implored, then beseeched, then shrieked blasphemies and prayers alike. Crimson filth ran harmoniously, liberating the anguished. Drenched in odium, they witnessed the profound macrocosmic shattering in disbelief. Yet they sensed the cosmos suffering in sub-atomic decay. And then they saw the monuments of peace in the feverish colours of the plague. And then the world was silenced... Barren earth devours the horizon. The sea now shelters only worms. Vermins plough the earth with sterile seeds. Wars echoe through timeless intersections. Memories of home turned to dust in our mouths. Ashes of hollowed grounds flowed through our veins. Our flesh paid the tribute to the fallen suns. Incarcerated within orbs of worlds colliding. We swarm to reclaim pieces of our solitude. Drawn to our cathartic introspection. We exalt the depths. We celebrate the marrow. We eradicate contrast. We burn the crossroads. |