No. 598

Oppositions do not exist, for they are merely refractions of interlaced spectrums, reverberating the echoes of our silent frequencies.

We are but a live current's flow, resonating the low valleys of our black sea and its shining white mountaintops.

Reflections upon reflections of a beginning, seen only within the depths of its own fading end.

O glimmering sigh, what is darkness without its day? What is light without its night?

What is opposition, if not the presence of its own absence?

What is one without the other? For even the stars above the sky hang up high in the past, far beyond our future's reach.

What is opposition, if not the absence of its own presence?

Spectrums of interlaced refractions, manifesting their existence through the presence of the ever-dying sounds of our future's past.

We are the voices of yesterday, pleading tomorrow for our remembrance.

We are the future, the beginning of the end.