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On the Essence of Transformation - text

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This is the nexus of perdition. This is the core of the fall. Worked out arduously in fear, trembling and fever. The body wrecked. The mind shattered. The soul destroyed. Ripe for apocalypse. And everything that constituted yourself, all the things you've done and those you could have. The joyous memories, the warmth and the calm. The silly thought that one day a change would come. The naive adolescence, off track with its dreams, but in the end - harmless and innocent. The anecdotes, and digressions and pauses. Those moments of bliss atop the green hills. The illusion of belief, justification and truth. All those things you've learned for later, for another life. And every word that could be spoken, every thought that could be born and all that could have been is now no more.

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Apocalypticists

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