A grief of being a light in a shadow

Spawnface
A grief of being a light in a shadow

It is a grief to be a light within a shadow. The shadow bringing spirits upon you to feast. The rays of your brilliance being temporal and futile. Only in the space of one's own being can one be comforted, one is in contempt of the world.

Only in oneself can their be assurance, may you never sustain life but as a moment gone by.

Is this not God forsaking us? For we have attempted to steal the fires of heaven? We have taken such a flame from the eternal and it has lost it's intangibility. We have taken the immutable word and robbed it of it's divinity. We have stolen the knowledge of good and evil. Are we cursed to perpetual darkness? Is our flame only but an illusion of the infinity?

Aspiring to be like our creator, we have forgotten our place and be cast away from the kingdom of heaven. We have become one of satans ilk. For in stealing this fire, we are now consumed in the darkness that pervades the world and only within this ghostly fire can we see any light. What are we to do? We have been forsaken. What has been done can not be undone, and our existence is the feast of the spirits of the dark.

There is a man that is said to know the way. The way to our salvation. This man is supposed to be a path out of the shadows. But in this path might we only find faith? In this faith, are we to return this fire and return to heaven? What is this faith but an elusory hope? Is it really any different than our fire?

Time will pass as our flesh rots with decay. The blood of our futility pours like a streaming cup into the gaping mouth of darkness of the ages. We seem to become little more than food for thought, just a feast of spirits. Should we have never have become a light in a shadow, we may have never been just a thought. Are we doomed of being forsaken? Are we only to exist from underneath a shadow? In all my years of moralizing, I wonder if it is I that am judged.

A grief of being a light in a shadow
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