بِسْمِ اللهِ الرَّحْمٰنِ الرَّحِيْمِ

sometimes just have to write, maybe a sunset or sunrise, pick a picture, let the brush find its canvas, bring out what's inside. every epic needs an aim, a maiden or madness, maybe both, to fuel the destiny of a planet so its Moon stays perfect in orbit, until their End arrives, to make whole those who walked through cataclysm. the unknowns i face, for love, for everything worthy of chase, worth the blood it lets, worth the lifetime of wait, without guarantees, His is the game, me simply a piece, like any king on a board, looking for the mate to call my Queen.