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_In a vacuous land, an undefined raw mixture, not proportioned by known essence, removed even from a conceptual age, frequencies coexist where, if we were to disregard those entities, we would have nothing. To now give a majestic melody, a divine scenario of the stygian path, we inoculate fear.
Sounds, not of metric verses, mask goals arbitrarily, which become immutable treasures. Proud basses make a gloomy backdrop, uneven accents dictate, to such sublime voices, excellent distributions. Strings, which from vibrant magic, constitute harmonies. Air, which is a vital breath, dominates anyone who dares to challenge it.
And to bestow immense conscious boundlessness, it roams through dark imaginary mazes, battles false selves to form an invincible warrior, tolerates what is your decay. Tenaciously faces duels for which you will fuel storms.
Contemplate this “to be.”
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