Sheol.A dark and silent abyss where the souls of dead wander.

My foray into the abyss began with the innocence of a child chasing a butterfly.Eternal pain.Each breath beings with it smothering despair. What words might I offer if I were to come across my mother and father?So long as it has been since I cound across the earth, amassing a wealth of knowledge.The intellect of a demon.The ultimate equation which barred my path.And the solution.I continued to search for a simple and universal answer.Joy. The joy of life.The consummate joy of man that shall never fade.However, the irregular wingbeats of the butterfly give rise to an infinite array of realities.The laws of life sneer at human wisdom and escape from our grasp.Cries of all kinds are averted, yet poverty never goes away.Humans devour each other, succumb to disease, and cry out in agoncy as they die.Oh, Sheol.Merciless god of the underworld.Death incarnate.Hear my voice!Hear the grevious sobs of a mourning child!The carcass of the butterfly you have ensnared may pale or tear apart, yet still, there are those who would defy death for a single scale.Behold! As the ferocious worms take flight into the sky again.Crushed dreams Lingering rays of sunset transformed into brilliant lightCurl your lips into a smile. Spread your wings with fervor.Take flight! Butterflies of despair!
Liber de Nymphis by Paracelsus