I Surrender

Meaningless! Everything is Meaningless! An unstoppable Tidal Wave is Coming to wash away this ungodly sphere; nowhere is Safe. This we have Unleashed upon ourselves. Do or don't do, the Outcome is the same. For us, the Sun has died and the Moons do hide. We stand as a beacon of Infamy throughout the Universe. The future is Void.

Vanity is Thy orb's name! All your precious Status Symbols of Survival will waste away into the same Rot that resides within. Fools of Fate thinking our made-up gods could Guarantee a future! Yes, the soon to be Deposed power lords mandated we worship these gods upon Pain of death and horrific Suffering. But all that guaranteed was Death itself.

Free me! Free me to the Wind, stepping Out of my Shackles at last. Let Nature takes its Course and Revenge. Her Justice is true and final. My writings, my Journal, what was I thinking? Perhaps a hope we'd turn to Salvation and my words a Warning to coming Generations to never turn back

But now my eyes are Open. The world can Choose unto itself. Only for my ownSoul can I now fight. The rest are Free to do likewise. But, yes, I see now what this Planet is: A world not to Remember.

Madness Rules the Sun

I stand as Unbearable Witness to the Final Consumption of my Virgin Planet. Voracious Wars battling for the remaining Remnants ensnare us in a Wicked Web of Furious Desire; a Blind Ball spinning out of control into space. Tell me, where is the Love brought onto the this orb with every tender Birth?

Celestial Tears scar my soul, burning me as I Watch everything I love Destroyed in passionate Ignorance. Reason dissipates like water from a balloon that cannot be Patched. How to Gather hope back in? Madness has lost the last of its Shame. It sits as Capricious King dispensing Death from a besotted Throne, Laughing though the hour is Short.

Only the Machines stand Inviolate, to be kept going regardless of Human cost. Like Feverish ants we pore over them as if our Future rests within their hollow Metal. Eyes drain Life in the Name of life. So Contaminated we are, ask the wandering lost souls and they'll decry the machines as more Worthy than us.

Magic Marauders murder in the thought an End will never come, Blessing themselves as Saved from any Doom. In Gangrene Dreams they attack their Good that torments them, Disease the vaunted Cure. Air Sirens wail helplessly through the night, Expressing our communal scream. The Weight of what I witness I cannot carry as darkness Buries the day. I can find no Light left to love in the world.