Void : II
This vitiated sphere, this terrene orb we tread, whose purpose is but inanition, whose fatum is fore-ordained.
Receive thy apothegm of ruin, thy sorrowful haruspex.
We lie, a putrescent harvest, face-down in the vile glebe, incandescent in a taciturn despair; In the cold, insalubrious earth did we contend, a deplorable war of deleterious rage.
Yet, dream we of a stellar palingenesis, to scour the maculations of time's preterite scrolls. When from this spell, this somnolence, we are extricated, then shall we rise, unhooded from the sepulchre's deep fastness, and abscond, fleeing into the pharynx of the dark chimera. Behold, the fettered spirit is emancipated.
From the calcified exuviae of a defunct stellar forge, to the ebon depths of a heart whose light is extinguished, we are but atomi united in the dust, in the vast nihility—the progeny of the abyss, foully engendered; Our scope is illimitable, our nature aeonian.
Flawed in the archetype, an immanent flaw marks our thread; We were begot for a cycle of death, reiteration without end. Automatons of thoughtlessness, creations void of volition; The iniquity and malefaction of the primal sire, thou dost genuflect to deities of mere simulacrum, thou fell with me, plunged into the chasm's dark meander; Now gaze upon the whole, the encyclopedic misery—a grim, unyielding didactic of dolour and affliction.
Inconsequential fate, thy fatum is assured and bleak.
Accept thy prophecy of ruin, the dark truth that you seek.