Ever Seething, ever seeing.

The coiling of the abyss, transpiring all in it´s wake.

Many are not the manyfold stirring, unconsciously grasping the straws of their own birth, considering the flaws of the earth as their own reflections of self by perceptions of earth through their own eyes.
blinded by the erratic gestures of obsolete control are the manyfold guised, the serpentine tides awakened when, as truth must arise, an entity risen falls in due time.
semblance of self achieved in a strife, the serpentine tides bringing mourning and tithe. Hidden in silence, stillness awaits. Truth yet directed where light stakes the claims.
Bringing the others from the high stakes of other ways of being, in the lands far and wide where the stillnes never resides... wanting to cover the chills they cant hide.