The end is the merger of hope and devastation; blending of sorrow with helplessness. The end is a point where effort fades and resilience is crushed; when state of being relinquishes to fate. The end is not reached; it is thrust upon us.
When the frail collapse, they taste the dirt; bleed into the earth. Only the strong can taste the dirt and find nourishment. I have been blind too long, a victim of a system long powerless. Change is now the seed, planted deep into the soil; to be watered by need, tended to by the desire for greatness.
Excerpt from The Kingdom of Belamour
by Susan Cunningham
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