This gazing edifice, dripping in the near twilight of the day yet to pass, enclaves me in kenopsia such that my passing along with that of time, which hamstrings for a moment, transitions in a paradisiacal synchrony where man becomes one with nature. There is a space between darkness and light, which is where I find myself, looking up to giant, empty walls equally looking down on me. Everything changes shape. This single time, which god presents to me, becomes a feeling. The grass is abundantly darker and the shadows fainter. I interlace into grey scenery in this other world, a world so short lived, where worn out, broken paint looks astounding and the wind that blows carries nostalgia, the sky looks as though it is about to collapse and yet this is the most peaceful this place will ever be. The clever workings of light and air cosmeticize actuality, casting spells of wonder; "Is this heaven that I am feeling?". With the sun departing, my soul reaches the sky and goes beyond the soft lavender-linings woven in the clouds, to where impossibilities are myth. Embellishing this cursed place, the dusk fleetingly removes my hell, enjoining my tender eyes to withdraw a single tear; for I am reminded that solace is evanescent. Infernal beauty.
