The winds are calling the names of the eternal lives. They keep whispering to their ears to let go, just let go. The Eternals never answer, but their expressions say enough. They don’t want, they’ll never want. Unless, of course, the living will join them. They’ll stop then, ever.
Their untold words hurt them. Their unspoken perceptions kill them. The undeclared devotions torture them.
They want to speak it out loud, but they can’t. They’ll never. Their souls will always be broken and their hearts will always beat death. Even if they need to say it or they want to speak it, they can’t. Unfortunately, they keep thinking they can.
The winds are calling the names of the eternal lives, to hold the air and join their journey. Up beyond the blue skies will serve as their pure paradise. But the Eternals don’t want that.
Instead, they will always choose the hell and chaos they keep building. Unless, of course, the living will join them.
If only the living will join them.