The sky is starless. Whatever light remains in the world lurks behind dark and matte grey clouds, so close to the ground and not nearly half-way to heaven. Then, take all this and heaven too, for every being has a limit for coping and my cup runneth over again.
What lies in smoldering ruins; arisings of concern with one's own welfare and the theology of satanistic deeds. Nay, no more, say I.
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