Redefining melancholy
The Great Sea. Of people. So great that even if we lay on the shoulders of giants, we are part of it. And the giants themselves stumble to map the depths of the crimson trenches. Where fire smolders and bursts out vivid memories, that's the root of the sea. Ocean hides nightmare that envelops truth. So even if the curtain falls, and its edge falls evenly, dare we look into the currents? Chaos lurks so vapid it seems it has become one with the currents. The only footing you can find for yourself is the fire that consumes you from deep inside, such is the soul, such is where I lie reminiscing about you. Submerged, my heart shouts with ice shards so ethereal. Plunge upwards through the waves, crash into the clouds below the surface and get hit by the space between the air. Light is for air what the trench fires are for the ocean. An order that faintly manages to grasp mere inches of my chaos. I long for air, but I belong to the sea. Should I let go of the c...