Foundations solidified by a blistering time, sand driven deep by winds of tempest speed make not a crumbling shift, but a mass unmoved by gods nor the very time to which birth rites are doled. Not third but first the stars that shine do compete for the crown deserved by whom is seated, not so arrogantly, but humbly upon a throne shaped from generosity; a monarchy only befitting the traits of virtuous souls seated in pairs.
But to what is unmoved may be changed, not by time, but by truth. A truth challenged where generosity thrived shakes ground upon those who are seated, moving violently and mercilessly, sundering that which bore witness to eternity first hand. Forever, such is changed but irreversible and cursed, incapable of regressing to safer times, prohibited from progressing past, trapped and broken.
Now two, breaking the harmony which permitted its existence, smaller and meeker facing the pestilence of time, will not erode, but will outlast the sanity of men, standing as a reminder, incessantly screeching a song of madness. A perversion of perfection, sullied, sundered, does not go unpunished; a sin beyond the reach of redemption.
