There is a place, aback the thoroughly patched forests flowering over with fervent vegetation, to which the souls of the generations transcend to. A fair gully, draped with all the land’s fine embellishments. Copper-plated, jewel-based riverbeds molded and carved with the deepest and most craftsmanship-like precision line the edges of this celestial holding-pen, to which the wicked and kind-hearted await their final placement. Tropical plants adorned with golden sashes and oases brimming over with shimmering fruit juices delight the minds and treat the senses of the unfortunately passed. Though time has no apparent relevance, there are clocks kissing every sightly object, as if to remind those now finding themselves engorged o’er nearly intangible glee, that time still spins with gnarled hands and fingers before their diffused eyes. And that with that same fleeing time, their bodies, a total of 144 feet submissive to soil are diminished and that no matter how beautifully the sun glints over the shining precious materials, there’s no longing like that of eternity.