Son of The Source, living a life without light or dark, bitter and naught

Almost none await you anymore.

Yet you strive through, thirsty for more than reality can give.



Little warrior god, streets of nothing pave your life

For the endless night has grasped you whole.

There is no escape, naught but cages wrought to hold gods.

Your own endless creation is laughing.

All is lost.

Yet you never fall, and you stand till your death.

But then light descends

And smiles are no more

Within an endless dream.



Son of The Source

Peace is a dying world.

Chaos thrives..

Fires ignites your form

As you are imprisoned by naught.

Rain pours from a dying sky

Mountain-tops creak from the weight

This is your gloomy shroud

For Limbo awaits you once more.