I see stones trembling, the skies growing dark and bluer, the trees swaying ominously, and the bones of the forgotten rising sequentially. I see a ravine deepening and widening, with fire spewing afar from its origin. I see the mountains groveling and the trees attempting to jump from their roots as they realize the prophecy was misinterpreted; it was the lord’s army that would come, but the horned one, with his armies of pariahs and filth. The wolves retreat to the caves, along with the bears; their stupidity understood, as well as their despair, therefore, I will not harbor any judgments. The sky turns to crimson, for the blue sky had absconded. Now engulfed by fury and vile, the world has finally fallen and appears no avail shall come from the nearest hill or the highest peak of the skies. The last chronicle of Earth lay in my palm; I, a wanderer of this world, an outcast of the region far above my footprint. I shall witness my descent, however, before I do such a thing, I will laugh at those who deemed themselves sanctimonious and selective; for they too are about to descend into the palm of flame and rock. Ironically, the rich and the poor shall be divided or united, either switched or placed in an perennial spectacle of entertainment for the high king of the third stage. Whether I shall be among those who guffawed and scorned me is uncertain, nevertheless I will still lay down against this stone with a smile and a content conscious, for their genocide of my cells and proteins was vain. If I do see such “admirable” malformed dust and bacteria, I will hug them with my “filth” and “secular hygiene” and thereby, demolishing their once great structure of faith. I will be ablaze, however I will be scintillating and manifest; I will be a beacon to all the erstwhile facades forever, until Father Time’s pointed finger stops.