Frozen Winds – Keys to Eschaton
Home is calling. The maternal womb of chaos hath spoken. The waters remain stirred as they always have been… and they never fluxed. When the urn of Self pierces holes within itself, blood transmutes into cognizance. The oceans shaketh, and the mundane becomes a futile comfort. The undisclosed nothingness births suffering and the bittersweet instability […]
