Little did they know that the land of festivities is a gilded cage made of neons, sweets, and everything in between. A place to lull those whose hearts are weighed, and whose souls are weary. Secrets buried under glitters but never gold, once screams of terror now replaced by the choir of a mockingbird. Lullaby of morning chirps rings still, a solemn reminder that all dreams have its end once the limb of the clock ticks its due. We ask not for the escapee’s life, if a god could feel, there is nothing but joy that surges through us when we see our people bathed in the pleasantries of what the world has failed to offer.
Those who could not see, shall be blessed with the brightest dawn. Those who could not walk shall be given wings to soar beyond the sky. Those whose dreams were eroded by the harsh reality, shall be served endless dusks and falling stars–so each wish plucked out have its remedy in the land of infinity. Today, the sun shines once again once the moon rules in reality. The lush bushes sway, and the luminous lights from the sea of buildings shall be the guiding match for the lost.
Little did they know, an excerpt of an unknown world once wrote a passage; where heaven exists there shall be hell that sit side by side with it. Where there is a plate of forgiveness, there shall be a waste of vengeance. This is the land where everything blends, all colors that shall merge into one; black. All heaven has its beloved child, little did they know even an angel is just a toy, the most loved is the most tortured, and they shall face martyrdom, and suffering, for eternity to be an Aeon’s favorite little cosmic joke. Little did they know even an angel is not free as a sacrificial lamb, an existence sweeter than the finest wine. Little did they know that an Aeon would gnaw upon their neck, rob them everything of what they once owned until it bleeds leaving nothing but devotion to their Aeon.
Little did they know, even an angel could fall.
Blinded they are by the present, so they fail to see the future. Blinded they are who cling upon the world that offers an infinite end, to enter into a paradise that only sings of choir and feast. The forgotten mockingbird, laid down in peace to be submerged into the bubble of memories, leaving a legacy in its wake–ironic it is, for none to knows the truth except one who got left behind.
We saw you, our dearest Halovian. The face of paradise whose hands are now dipped in black. The red on your ledger exceeds the sweetness of a glass full of SoulGlad. We saw how you laughed with a thousand hands covering your mouths–with fluttering feathers that rest on both ears. We heard your thousand words about peace and justice, nary a one for war. For you shall deliver a funeral in the name of righteousness. We saw you smiling, constellations twinkling beneath your eyelids–and yet those are as dim as the mounted corpses in the land of glee. We saw your hands delivering sentences from a thousand eyes, with scattered skeletons reduced as foams in the depth of the sea. We saw how you rinse yourself so you shall stay pure, pure as how doves should be, and the deep shall wash the red away. This time, there shall be no bird. The hymn of the depth sung by whales and fishes shall be the equivalent exchange. One laugh for one demise.
We saw you, who did everything not for the goner, but for the order. We saw how you froze your heart so none would have any space left but the duty that must be done. Even if it means, counting a dear family away but a body count for a reason.
And yet, this child, shall always be an angel. The face of a paradise. A paradise that is created based on what the Family wants, but never what a true Aeon desires. So, rejoice. Thy effort shall be rewarded, and the world of Penacony shall reply with colors–and mayhaps never a hue one could discern with all of their eyes open.
