The fragile web of life like labyrinth accelerates, leaving faint traces of light. As the super nova of balance implodes, shards of clarity spiral to unknown universes while the rest is undetectable by the naked eye. The constant change of transformation echo's throughout all of time while faint whispers that once were encouraging become questionable whispers. Queasy notes laugh, and the suffocating symphony becomes the only known light source. Seemingly looking to an impossible encouragement, starving for any synchronistic sign. Any of yesterdays encouragements are forgotten while trapped in the strings of silence. The labyrinth is sure so slow her acceleration. Intentions of the highest good will win. Patients is a virtue. Hope is the cure.
