The only certainty is the emptiness.
It is a world full of fluttering leaves, falling to the ground with no purpose or direction or aim.
Words have no meaning in this world.
Action determines all, but even action is followed by interpretation, and interpretation is the antonym of certainty.
Everyone is striving to hear certainty here.
We all want something or someone to come down from the clouds and tap us on the shoulder and say,
“everything is going to be alright.”
In this world, there is no water for the fire.
It can only burn until its all done burning. Nobody will put it out before nature takes its course.
Here, darkness can’t be remedied by light.
Darkness is light.
The day only brings nearer the nights, and the nights only bring nearer the dreams, and the dreams only bring nearer the fears, and the fears only bring nearer the morning, and then the light comes – but the light is just darkness.
Its cycle is only broken when the smoke clears, the damage is left, and fire has torched the town and the people have adapted accordingly.
Its ruins will always be there.
The scent of smoke will never leave.
The embers will glow orange and the buildings will fall and when the next people come to this world they will try to build it up to what it used to be, but the fire will be back.
The darkness is light.