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Gods, demons, people
One is order
Another is chaos
Yet we are the reality
How can such a world exist?
The madness of perfection is what brings all to death
All to soon
All to see
We all can understand
All can feel
Can hear
Yet we wait for eyes
Have we waited long enough?
Or have we only just begun
So many starts, so many finish lines
Yet not a single race has been completed.
Opal so omnipotent
oPal so pugnacious
opAl so atrocious
opaL so languid
So many but so few. Time is not a constant, think.
Constant?

This world isn’t real, it is but a puppet on the string of the reality that is eternity. It is gods hand and playbox for creation

O pal. O my good pal