Chapter 2 — A Beginning Of The Thought Of An End

The journey remains without an event, for the sakes of the sounds that forsake the clouds stood only as the atmosphere for the atrophy of the unending, while theirs remains naught the sorrow that their cloudiness could’ve decorated the pavement that trailed through their journey.

There was a stop without a bicker at the roadside but there wasn’t an ease in the stop of the bicker at the world’s end. There couldn’t be a semblance of a calling for a yearning in the idea of ease as their minds but their rests to restlessness while its rest remained but an eternal fact.

There also was the grazing of the goats by the hillside which adorned the clouds with a hue that stultified a rain to rest for the goasts to graze, but the men that marched shaped without candor remains unstoppable without a candor. There couldn’t be a march without the stops and there could only remain but a stop in the march for the body praised its glory in its walk while the mind praised its walk in its glory, and neither praised the seconds of silence in between each stride that basked in its own unending.

Without a stop remained the world that turned over its head as the feet marched without a sigh in its breath. Without a cause continued the stride in its thoughtlessness as the wheat remained eternally without a waiting in its breath. Without a pleasure was the word of the Hausman uttered as the CaKS’Mas acquired its inexistence in the existence of the Hausman’s pleasure.

Wouldn’t there be a march without a sigh and wouldn’t there be a sight without a march crosses the minds of none as the plague of continuum striked its abode into the grounds of one.