Single Status Update
NOTE: This is taken from some picture/poetry I made last night. THe thing itself is too dumb to show, so I'm just posting this:
"This is how it ends?" he screams.
He sits in the corner covered in her blood. He can sense her death from across the room. Blood on the floor. Blood on the walls. A hand-shaped bloodstaisn surround him in his corner. Again he screams:
"This is how it ends?"
"When does it begin?" she replies.
He sits there, running through his mind. So now the fire burns, but to burn brightly and quick, or to smoulder for eternity? Where are these boundaries? Are they imposed and integrated into our minset? By us? By them? By whom? Or is this really our fate at all? A preset destination? A destiny that has already been chosen?
"I do not think that's how it is," she, Comfort, replies. "Maybe there is a chance. Perhaps we are not so helpless. There seems to be more to this."
He, Suicide, shakes his head.
"Amore," she assures. "Love. It's what guides us through this life."
"Morte," he replies. "Death. It's what ends this life. It's what brings a halt to love."
"Apocalypse," Suicide continues. "The big death. The end of everything. A complete destruction."
Comfort shakes her head. "Reincarnation. Nothing is truly destroyed. It will inevitably reform to create somethign new."
She goes on. "Destiny. A destiny we choose ourselves is what ultimately decides what we become."
He shakes his head. "Fate. It is a predetermined fate that leads us. We have no choice in the matter. This fate guides us to the final destruction."
"The chaos of destruction," he continues, frowning. "Everything is unstable and will ultimately be destroyed. The chaos of the universe gives an unsurity that your life may be cut short unexpectedly at any moment."
Comfort smiles and replies calmly, "the chaos of creation. Chaos is what created the universe. It is what created life. The chaos of the universe is constantly shaping new world, new life, new beauty."
The epiphany begins.
"And from destruction," he beigns.
"Comes creation," she finishes.
"But destruction takes hold inevitably."
"Thus is the cycle."
"Reincarnation," they say in unison.
Chaos in love.
She ascends then, like a holy rapture. Her beauty intensified and she grows, finaly encompassing everything. And then she becomes the Apocalypse, both terrible and beautiful. Terrible in it's destruction, but beautiful in it's promise of a new beginning.
"What?" says the man standing nearby.