Such As They Are

Silence is not empty. Never will she tread by her lonesome, for even dormant tragedy need only patience. So topple your cards, fold your hands. Your pawns have already forfeited the house. Such a shame; a bitter waste our free will be when deserted of reason.

A glimmer of hope lay along the horizon, and yet the tides carry with them only distance, sediments in endless expanse of roads once traveled. Time and mother nature's very fabric, beaten down playfully in a test of might; may the most precious prevail...

For who needs cast a stone if it only be lost at sea?