Post by styxxbone1 on Jan 7, 2017 20:29:44 GMT -5
The smell of stagnation, of the rot that permeates the very air we breath. A silent whisper we have all felt, even if we have not heard it.
Of decadence and long inaction.
Predators silently circle, gathering in the shadows, watching, waiting, sensing the great old purple slug is failing.
They sense it's inevitable demise approaching.
It has grown weary, fat, old and lazy. This indolent purple wyrm.
Crushed under the weight of it's own inertia and apathy. Secure in thinking it's treaty with the darkness will hold.
And yet here, in the forest that is it's name sake. Lies the answer.
What was old and decaying, choked with dead layers of past growth and glory is now renewed.
The cleansing fires have stripped away the choking tomb like closeness, the cloying stench of death and decay.
Wiped away the apathy of the dying. Only to replace it with new growth and new vigor.
Like a breath of fresh spring air.
Will you stand a silent, accepting vigil, over the decaying corpse of the old order?
Or will you set flint to steel?
Renegade
Of decadence and long inaction.
Predators silently circle, gathering in the shadows, watching, waiting, sensing the great old purple slug is failing.
They sense it's inevitable demise approaching.
It has grown weary, fat, old and lazy. This indolent purple wyrm.
Crushed under the weight of it's own inertia and apathy. Secure in thinking it's treaty with the darkness will hold.
And yet here, in the forest that is it's name sake. Lies the answer.
What was old and decaying, choked with dead layers of past growth and glory is now renewed.
The cleansing fires have stripped away the choking tomb like closeness, the cloying stench of death and decay.
Wiped away the apathy of the dying. Only to replace it with new growth and new vigor.
Like a breath of fresh spring air.
Will you stand a silent, accepting vigil, over the decaying corpse of the old order?
Or will you set flint to steel?
Renegade