KeotsuEclipse
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The rolling tides cascade against the shore in an endless cycle of the land giving way to the sea, and the sea relenting and retreating from its advance. In a place far off from the seas conquest over land, fragments of earth rise from the stormy wake and begin amassing, forming new lands; new continents, new nations.
This give and take remains constant, neither truly overcoming the other; simply trading places. What was once conquest gives way to barter, exchange of one realm for another. The lands creep towards the sky, yearning for the ultimate escape, and the seas crash ever on, with a vicious lust for total control.
The man, staring at the ocean waves, was all that was left. How many eons had passed since others like him had walked where water now roamed, or swam were land now stretched from horizon to horizon? How long had it been since he had heard the sound of anything other than the roaring plains and seas?
How long?
The primal and powerful displays of the planet diminished overtime. For a great value spread over a long distance did not amount to much in the end, and so while a force might seem monumental in an instant…over every instant, the same magnitude would be inconsequential.
Did they wipe themselves out? Or did the planet retaliate in fury at its abuse? Or, perhaps, something else?
Why was he alone? Was it salvation? Or a damnation? Perhaps, one that lead into the other, but, then, who knew? He alone remained to judge, but what purpose would such a label serve? Why, then, would he bother? The decision would be swept away, only to resurface elsewhen, under new form.
The place before him, though, was unique in the conquest. A noman’s land where neither side had domination. A place where the earth was fluid and molten, rising and falling as the water around it did. Would the land remain victorious here, or would the seas quash such staunch rebellion?
Would his observation even matter, after eons of observation? Perhaps, then, it was his presence that was the dilemma. They would be forever locked in combat, but only compromise or conquest would be the release…and thus, something was needed to dip the scales.
Into a lake of fire and brimstone, and salt and sea, did the man walk, feeling, perhaps for the first time. Perhaps for the last. He dredged on, a third form into the abyss. A third force to tip the balance.
To destroy or create. To unshaped or mold.
Did it matter, in the end? The land and the seas eternal strife? For even they fought under the guise of a master; the man.
The man marched onwards into the abyss.
For time creates and destroys, undoing what it has done and giving new form to the remnants.
…time, marched onwards into the abyss.
This give and take remains constant, neither truly overcoming the other; simply trading places. What was once conquest gives way to barter, exchange of one realm for another. The lands creep towards the sky, yearning for the ultimate escape, and the seas crash ever on, with a vicious lust for total control.
The man, staring at the ocean waves, was all that was left. How many eons had passed since others like him had walked where water now roamed, or swam were land now stretched from horizon to horizon? How long had it been since he had heard the sound of anything other than the roaring plains and seas?
How long?
The primal and powerful displays of the planet diminished overtime. For a great value spread over a long distance did not amount to much in the end, and so while a force might seem monumental in an instant…over every instant, the same magnitude would be inconsequential.
Did they wipe themselves out? Or did the planet retaliate in fury at its abuse? Or, perhaps, something else?
Why was he alone? Was it salvation? Or a damnation? Perhaps, one that lead into the other, but, then, who knew? He alone remained to judge, but what purpose would such a label serve? Why, then, would he bother? The decision would be swept away, only to resurface elsewhen, under new form.
The place before him, though, was unique in the conquest. A noman’s land where neither side had domination. A place where the earth was fluid and molten, rising and falling as the water around it did. Would the land remain victorious here, or would the seas quash such staunch rebellion?
Would his observation even matter, after eons of observation? Perhaps, then, it was his presence that was the dilemma. They would be forever locked in combat, but only compromise or conquest would be the release…and thus, something was needed to dip the scales.
Into a lake of fire and brimstone, and salt and sea, did the man walk, feeling, perhaps for the first time. Perhaps for the last. He dredged on, a third form into the abyss. A third force to tip the balance.
To destroy or create. To unshaped or mold.
Did it matter, in the end? The land and the seas eternal strife? For even they fought under the guise of a master; the man.
The man marched onwards into the abyss.
For time creates and destroys, undoing what it has done and giving new form to the remnants.
…time, marched onwards into the abyss.
