No man who ever lived saw a sky of perpetual beauty.
Yet, this illusion of peace is what we all grasp onto, we cling to a wretched existence of meaninglessness only surviving through this delusion of fighting for fleeting peace.
Alexander the great is dead, and so are we - long before we even opened our eyes.
The only truth in this life of nothingness is death, and all that's in between is a cause of the inherent lack of worth of our very heartbeat.
The boulder we push doesn't exist, and neither do we.
And yet, we burn. And yet, we laugh.