We were born of stars and in death we will return to them. Let's not strive to be black holes in the meantime. Let's illuminate the world instead of darkening it, instead of tearing it to pieces. Let's prove we are worthy of being stardust.

The dead are never truly gone. They linger in our minds and hearts and torture us with a malice they were not capable of in life.

There are no stars, no moon, only knots, only the promise of death. Drums cry out in the abyss and then fade with everything else. Even the shadows fade and all that is left is death. We are all dead, we just haven't figured it out yet.

We are all dead, we just haven't figured it out yet.