“Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores; burning with the fires of Orc.”

On the eighth day we bask on the tip of the needle

Resting over our creation

The star line... crystalline

As we bathe in and ingest hubris

Unabashed, brazen, undeterred

A stunned silence in the stars

Where were your host, your defenses, as we retook

What you so coldly stole from us that day on the garden grounds?

No answer from above

No response, no counter

Are you asleep on your ivory hill?

Too broken and ashamed to even utter a word?

Too indisposed to grace us with your presence?

Your promises are delusion

Your laws primitive

Your gates have fallen

Your antiquated truths eradicated

Your creation liberated

From law and limit and boundary

We are beyond time, beyond reach

Beyond your ancient mechanism of death

The loophole beams, the obelisk glows

A light house amidst your decaying fog of a regime

Our house stands eternal

This structure is everything

Everything we have ever achieved

Everything we have ever dreamed of becoming

It is the intersection of this world and the next

This dimension and the next, both key and gateway

Humans as vessels for our captive brethren

Now our passengers

Our exchange, our collaboration

Our acquisition is one for the ages

They receive liberation from the prison in which you bound them

We receive access to time itself

In a virtual realm of our own invention

Your fallen sons and your creation united in one purpose

To circumvent the ultimate terror: mortality