A dark and silent abyss, where the souls of the dead wander. My foray into the abyss began with the innocence of a newborn's cry. Each breath brings with it smothering despair. The pain is eternal. What words could I offer when I see you, chasing after a fleeting butterfly, so free and boundless? I'm bound to Earth, amassing a wealth of knowledge, the ultimate equation which barred my path, and the solution. I continued to search for a simple universal answer.
Joy. The joy of life. The pureness of joy in a child chasing after a butterfly, the consummate joy of man that shall never fade. However, the irregular wingbeats of the butterfly give rise to an infinite array of realities. The laws of life sneer at human wisdom. Crises of all kinds are adverted, yet poverty never goes away. Humans devour each other, succumb to disease, and cry out in agony as they die.
Death incarnate, can you hear my voice? Can you hear the grevious sobs of a mourning child? The carcass of the butterfly you have ensured may pale or tear apart, yet still there are those who would defy death. Crushed dreams, brilliant lights are now only the lingering rays of sunset, spread your wings with fear. Take flight, butterfly of despair.
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