Caught between the currents of living and oblivion, our hearts call out in all their uncertainty for...mercy.
Like wounded suns.Spirits elden and old hear these calls, and it is their sympathy which seems to follow us as a circle. A ring.
Grace is upon our shoulders but we can still make demons from the actions of our hands. Beings shrouded and great such as Seech know this well, and it is their children who encircle the doomed most of all.
They whisper in ways to those like us. Make their presence known through our laughter and our tears. It is their business to grant us the partials of our desires even if we suffer for it.
For our agony can either open our eyes to divinity in and around ourselves...or we can succumb to the worst fate of our desires. To be consumed by them.