When released from societal confines, mockingly posing as structure, newfound serenity is confused with discord.
Manifest inner conflicts and God-like shadows will be cast.
Chains snap and allow wounds to heal, or crush from beyond bone. The absolute of life is only grey so long as we breathe. Is birth or death the light we seek? Are we more blind when facing that light, or the pure dark pitch of silence?
Perhaps life will dictate this presumed ascent or descent before we're unleashed beyond withering forms dancing aimlessly on a speckle of the universe.