Petals, divine in scent and shade burst from every pore and seam. Roots drag a choking glutton into the always open mouth of the earth, the true eater of all things. The end of this world is a vision so pure that it destroys sight itself. A whisper of all that has been, and all that is to be. Left drifting in your final thought, cradled by numbing joy; your fattened body feeds the world above, your marrow the world below.

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