As a shred of hallowed essence
An empty urn of disturbance
It is this primordial fluctuation of fertile vibrations consumed by its own burrow
The weightless weight of this body caressed by decrepit elements
Is it the void that makes it empty?
Or the calamity of its creation?
The mighty gap collapses in an ominous presence
Resonates in the smatter and amiss of a fragmented God
A cosmoerotic liquidation of divine interaction
There I stand corroded by my own perception
Carrying a weightless weight of a dead God
Wasn't this an act of Chaos?
Wasn’t this an act of compassion?
The idea that nothing can touch the Maker, the source of All
The harbinger of life and matter, impeccable and flawless, the One
But therein, behind the mantle of deceit, exists no exemption for the ultimate consumer
Without a glimmer of hope, no essence left undevoured
A witness for the ultimate void
The destruction of singularity
The eldest attendant of apocrypha
Keeper of eternal knowledge
The perpetual lockbox of nothing
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