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“When I wake to consider the vaporous aether of our universe, everything feels as though contained within an impenetrably dark infinitely expanding bubble through which the empty space overtaken is sacrificially loaned unto a mockery of its antithesis, across waning dales where the dead retire, to be reclaimed by this cosmic tide, recycled, reincarnated into further being, a self-renewing system of cacophonous consignment inuring one maniacal God His baseless funereal watch, an elementary decree whose advantage succeeds into everlasting fire.” — Jacob H. Kyle
When I wake to consider the vaporous aether of our universe, everything feels as though contained within an impenetrably dark infinitely expanding bubble through which the empty space overtaken is sacrificially loaned unto a mockery of its antithesis, across waning dales where the dead retire, to be reclaimed by this cosmic tide, recycled, reincarnated into further being, a self-renewing system of cacophonous consignment inuring one maniacal God His baseless funereal watch, an elementary decree whose advantage succeeds into everlasting fire.