Banshee screams, and witless plights all ignite the dying light. To flee or somber are choices we carry, as the sky shatters and the clouds bleed black. What do we see but a dark illusion that whispers rubbish, yet wails for assistance. Loathesome eyes influence our peers, and fate begins to wither away a stifling leer. We seek for help but destiny stops to let go a shriek, what little time we have to act. Blue turns gray, morning turns to dusk, yet we muster attention for attention has stalled. What we seek isn't justice for all but justice for one, one lonely sphere doomed to burden its inevitable end. Destiny seeks light and light seeks a heart, true hearts that believe in an end. A heart that seeks pain, a heart that beats for harmony rather than longevity. A heart that loves in nature, yet supplants an array of life. For life is a delicate balance of struggle and glory, for which happiness is either bought or earned. We live to see others alive, and we die to serve a purpose. A purpose unique to every being, a purpose that can reverse the seems of time or accelerate life's impending doom. Time is evergreen and life is a rainbow. Let time be wasted not but life be acknowledged with patience and responsibility. We yearn for a bright ending, but what we have is a bleak start. For a start occurs once, the end is inevitable, so time in between should be lively yet durable. All stories have an end, but all stories have a plot- a plot that can be molded by the artists of our world. So go forth and change the world, go forth and spread the word of Gaia's imminent death- for if not, a blistering fate shall fall back to hand our gift.