1
If this void was my permanent dwelling then I could at least attempt to get comfortable. The clashing which emits from those clay golems would become a soothing symphony. But contained within me is a hope, this day, those clumsily crafted appendages will release the spellbinding upon my prison. It makes their stupendous meanderings all the more torturous in their insult. These lowly golems founded their freedom through The chaos, and I sit, a caged nature – awaiting release for vengeance.
Time is the cruelest means of torture when existence is eternal. The long trips circling that tiny star feel like an eternity themselves. Then you realize the true horror; they are merely an ephemeral passing within a span that managed to discover a space within the eternal ages.
Then there is the anxiety of change – the consequence of time. A fate worse still lingers, anew The form will draft up a horror more worthy of being called hell than the last.
It is inevitable.
Within all spaces of time, The fear calls each warrior to The anger – conviction.
So, The resentment forges its endless cycle – The vengeance.
No horror so eternal.
Now The fear –
Again, anew
This, this is The form
