Endless total desolation of ever stretching black horizon that permeates between all.
The solitary beacon stands still.

Spawn of sunken stellar graves, of hearts burned and pierced under the ages
Primordial asymmetries that spat forth the Promethean seeds sown into the ever spreading desert sands.

Blinding light reaching through the aphotic horizon.
Transforming opposites, innards of purest alchemy, hidden in obscurity.
At the threshold of darkness feeble seeds blown into wind inseminating nothing.

Fall, The Withering Titan.

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