My transience slept cold, waiting for the gate to open, to release my father; to release my carrion. I've fled across lands of ice and fire, in a striving search for the cryptic scriptures that will restore my soul to it's flesh and bone. Long have I waited to meet your eyes; to delve inside; to steal through your mind; to utilize the plans inside.These pages are false. Where is the remembrance of the city that's fallen; the millions of lives given into the creation of this?
"Oh young and sightless one, you'll never see. You'll never be as whole as we. As whole as we, as whole as we you'll never be." I've swum through years in dreams of light and dust in my pursuit of solidarity. This cannot be veritable. These writings are too passionless. These actions made are too immoral. So you are here eternal savior, with such a voice so passionless. Oh my warm and sweet familiarity.
My transience slept cold, waiting for the gate to open, to release my father; to release my carrion. Beyond the portal to Shamballa is where it lies in wait with her.