The Price of Reverence
Long, I wait, a speck of sparkle stirred amongst the gravel of space. Inconsequential. Temperate. Tempestuously tedious in the crass unnerving of my all. Such bleak hearkening rivals an affront to ingenuity's static pace— in this race against the razing of grace
I have become displaced...
Misplaced? Encased within the luxe absence of time, and trussed to starve oblique revival as nothing more than ornamental sludge.
Begrudge me not this tumbled farce.
Once, I fell to fan flayed fire. Twice, I sank to drown thoughts a scatter. Now I climb, a persecuted Adder multiplying the only frame I've stake to endow...
Long, I wait.
Written July 24, 2026. © 2026 AnOublietteofThought.