How shall I mask thee? Gaunt and deadly specter. Removed from the tethers of space time.

Moonlit symbol of eternity mistook for finality. They suffer in ignorance whilst you provide the way.

Personalizing forceful impermanence. Paradoxically reaping the weeping through the threshing wheel of everlasting being. Transitioning them through the river.

Smokey eyes of the Reaper. Enthroned at the hand of God. Trusted function of nature.

For in an age of mindful matter, your function is all the more horrifying.

We cast all others before you; deserving before ourselves. We reckon that we can escape thee by act or faith.

But only our attachments are broken. Only our desires for unfinished works. We'd stay, stagnate, forever in our toil.

What sweet relief you vex us with. Why then do few greet thee kindly?

Between absolute relativism and relative absolutism; you remind us that experience is key.

Hardwired in the very routine of life, your duty is the creative act. Your proper place is seated above biology and matter; both servants. They generate and decay at your whim.

It is a desire for a concrete life that reveals our disdain for thee. For your wares provide eternal perpetuation. We ought realize that sustenance occurs according to interchange.

The power to thee, to thee. Only we should become so wise as to have the revelation.

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