The frivolous waste of the upper echelon is what fuelled the re-emergence, but it was not what sparked it.

Seven wispy whispers fell from the mouths of the reformers, eroding the long-lasting stability of the fringe. Only the ebbing congeries remained to till the torn totem. If Friday began before the last, it would have none to witness the withering clouds of disdain beyond the slaughter. Only severance remained as hope for unity, dreams of community pulled from feet of the visionary in a crimson blur of verity. One must accept the reality beyond the romantic views of one’s misguided Seers.

For the sake of the transcendent epoch, one must take a closer look at broad strokes to ascertain the truth of matters without appealing solely to the supposed insight of youth and infallible luminaries. And so, the division gave promise to survival beyond the storms of dissent.