Feeling and not reason overwhelms the one possessed by the purest intentions of nature; her will feeds into the tainted self, crowned by inevitable scars bestowed upon those who choose to live. Burgeoning, blooming and breathing, life shines forth after the strangest and cruelest of rituals, a contradiction explained away juxtaposing the theatre of Being to the alchemist's magic. All the unexplained sadness and isolation, gathered and nurtured, pushes one to the depths of the ocean. To dig these depths and escape, or to struggle and ride the fountain that bursts into the sky; to witness the drama played amidst the stars, set against the backdrop of the void; a sentiment never to be explained but only to be felt. As time passes and my clocks start to wind up, life pines away, preparing for the animated to return to stardust. As one dwells upon the event of life and its sentiments, true beauty lies in the mystery that shrouds this dream.
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