ANTE MORTEM (Brumous Aim—Enclosed.)

ㅤ The divine scepter may well rest in their grasp, with sacred volumes of the Almighty’s edicts amassed below, reaping both aspirations and copious tears. They meander through the luminescence and alongside the zephyrs that bear their hearts untroubled, akin to a cradle of peonies. Oftentimes, they retreat to their sanctum, ensconced in silent ruminations, solemnly imparting hope through their serene demeanor. When nocturne descends, their steps are deliberate and unhurried, even as dawn pricks their instincts. Perhaps within them dwells an apprehension of the unseen, an overabundance of convictions, yet their spirits remain tranquil. They do not linger in solitude but embrace their sojourn towards eternity as they envisage it—a domain where rivers of nectar flow perpetually, fruits are perennial save for the proscribed, and all is an immaculate alabaster, unmarred by the faintest mist. What endures as ever-present, unobtrusive, and unobstructed—that is true solace. ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ POISONOUS FIGMENT OF SENTIENCE ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ Mortals   are    priggish,   ensnared   by ㅤㅤㅤㅤ holier-than-thou    complacency.    (Not ㅤㅤㅤㅤ true.)  Yet  they  walk   along  the  lines, ㅤㅤㅤㅤ here   to.  beseech,  fond   of  pledging. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ “Sun-gleam    bleeds     through      their ㅤㅤㅤㅤ sights   while   kismet    strides.” ..(𖤓).. ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ──────────────────────── ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ  [ ..࿇.. ] To bleed, to vow, to be tormented with every nightfall that devours my cherished firmament. THEY LAMENT (lament, lament) to  the  one  unseen  yet  undeniably ever-present. A vast,  enigmatic  void  from  nowhere—still,  faith  is  solemnly  proclaimed. Some  mortals invest in belief, while others fragment their souls like extinguished  stars. In  this  dissonance,  angels  and demons  vie  to  captivate  those whose souls dangle by  a  thread, teeter  on  the  brink. They shall  opt for the sake of fleeting pleasure and solace, for they are continuously  burdened  by  the  weight  of countless desires,  hopelessly  pleading  for   the  dimmed  sun to wane and  the celestial  gleam to blaze anew. Yet, those  born  of  flames  shall  descend, lured  by  the ephemeral ecstasy that springs from  unquenchable thirst.  Believing     eternal     triumph    rests    within  their  grasp,  they   are   tragically  beguiled—sweetly  ensnared,  and  their  tongue  slashed  until  no taste remains  but  the acrid, bitter essence of  blood that courses  unceasingly,  perpetually, even  beyond  the veil  of  mortality. Mortals  are  faced  with  a  choice between  two  portals:  the  terrestrial  realm  or  the enigmatic afterlife—neither eternal nor previously beheld. Enshrouded within a cradle of mystery, akin to an interminable labyrinth, they are engulfed in tenebrous gloom and a visage marred by turmoil. “BETWEEN HEAVEN AND HELL, WHERE TO, DEAR MORTALS?” (Declared: Book of Eternity, XVIII) ㅤ

ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ BENEATH THE HANDS OF FATE ㅤㅤ ㅤYOUR AIMS HIDDEN INSIDE THE DOOR ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ CLANDESTINE WILL OVERFLOW ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ .. ☩ .. A mere mortal around withering time. Some pledged to God and angels, while the others pledged to demons. Allied by aims, separated by faiths. Prior to death, we beseech for heaven. Soul engulfed by dread—this should not remain. Therefore, hold on to eternity, shall we? While our liaison should be the paragon, Ante Mortem is widely opening our gate for chances to have you around. However, we will selectively choose the ones with a main account and active business to establish an everlasting liaison. Thus, if you’re the one, come closer @MortalCrestBot, embrace our hearts and souls. ㅤ