Rend
A sterile numbness, overflowing in emptiness, purging all from the core.
In sterile dimness, it lay, fetal, patient for more.
A rewritten future history, a small gesture of near-infinite affectations.
A stone too small from fracture, but growing in permutations, can no longer fit snugly on a handsome thing, can no longer let a refraction through its opulene face, and light through its surface bring, Illuminated through it, colors, brilliance.
Space divided by several layers of time, time carved by will, crossed by a line, undefined, in all its opulence, it was a fragile gem, broken and lost among gods and men, pitted against each other, what wrongs they rend, but not unforgiven, despite their inevitable end, among that dimness, it shall begin again.
Sterile, lost, cleansed…
End.