From the veins of humanity rise the highest towers, withstanding time bought by the dying breath of blood and tears.
A vicious dichotomy of our history and legacy.
The grains of sand etched on the bells of destiny beckon with a call that reverberates over the ages, singing the same song — one of pain and suffering.
The beauty lasts, and the agony is forgotten.
The shape takes hold of the moment, captured in an eternity of time, in that grain of sand, towering in statues of wise men or halls of empty sounds echoing in their corners.
How can it be any different? Probably it can’t… but to this moment the reverence holds to acknowledge its severance from the flow of things, to rather than dying to move, it petrified and killed to stay.
Until the next ❤️ beat ~.~.~