The Final Gauntlet

Epilogue - The End

Soundless rivers and ethereal storms cataclysmic eddies stir and gravitational lighting are all signs that the End is nigh, and those who are burdend to witness the infidels and ruin that follow failures have a lesson in life yet to be take as wisdom. Forces of obscurity wash away the heliopause as heat and molten metal explode with first contact as the planet begins to slowly disappear - along with the titan and its companions of parasitic compilation. As a rain of death and true disparity crash down, all work done is undone as they watch helplessly eyes at awe of the catastrophe. Mesmerized by the chaos, they cower at the sight of moving mountains as they are to be entombed in a perpetual cosmic grave. Forever dying, by parishing instantly as they are undone by an earthly and unearthly force. It was the planets last attempt to mother them by sparing them the endless darkness offered by nature's own. As they took their last breath contact of the lifeless body with earth core instantly ignite the dead monster vaporizing anything left of the homo sapeins as they are erased from existences. In the quiet vacuum dust became dust, and unto the nothingness, life has been brought to the infinitesimal limbo - which no conscious being allowed to bear witness as all things vanish. Earth is gone - the people are gone - encompassed by nullity, and incase by one obvious truth we are left with what has always been ; the Black Commune. No person or persons of scientific knowledge are able to recall the history of empty space. Given to the null, and as the smoke dissipates what was once life, what was once a member of the Cosmic Partition leaves along with humanity, with the Syzophoan, its natural predator, and its fiends are cradled by neglect and disregard - nothing is left to speak upon the vigilance that a Great War took place here, a fight not for survival nor a nation against nationality but by the partnership of alien and alien. Life for life, now dead for dead. Who or what is left in the Cosmos will never know the will one has against extinction nor the instinct to endure tragedy or to be persistent in all attempts to keep the body and soul together. To sustain one self, to cling to life means naught because what will out last us are not the stories told or the science discovered only death, and it's nonexclusive appetite, without regard, nihility, and anominty win at the game of life; because what was before are the obstacles we face and the fame given to us by small impunitive chance, that we live to see another day is an opportunity gifted to us by the courtesy of eminence grise, namelessness and of imperceptible madness all came from a state of divine impertinence. Lonely onto loneliness, as war wins, and evil and good are finally vanquished.