Distorted confirmation of self arrogance. Primitive tactics to reserve what no longer appears relevant. Hollow-filled apertures that indulges nothing but your own fatuity. But can you see through such an bombastic act? Of course you can't. The ground in which you stand upon is all you need to acknowledge. What you see is what was told to you and like a dog, an animal; you feed upon it. However, I have good news for you. You don't have to fret for I will be the one to protect you. I shall be the reassurance of your ignorance and shroud you with your own transient state of victory. Don't you see? Everything's going to be alright. I will bifurcate the tension and allow your very corridors to suffocate you.

This my friend is salvation. Let the wave's intangible force impale your breath. Let it slither through your sinews and let your veins corrode under the pressure of silence. Permit them, as if you had any choice to begin with; to be transformed into stone and eradicated into dust. My return? Oh, my return is imminent. The eventuality that is much more evident than the eventuality of eternal sleep to a human. So sit in the empty chair of Kings and make peace with the vanishing. Make it your throne and savor your trophies, your victories, and superiority. And vanish peacefully within the cool and gentle breeze of illusion.