I drift about an endless sea of dead jellyfish and shattered light, searching for a hope that eludes me with every passing night, marked by lurkwarm currents in place of the cool ripples that would lull me to sleep.

Corpses of fellow neighbors and enemies alike trail me wherever I go. Stiff figures drained of life, with pale figures sharpened by harsh slivers of sun float above and around create the lucid maze of nightmares I cannot escape even in safety of ignorance. To be blind is to be caught in loops of strange translucent creatures, and to be caught is to perish by one's own struggling fins.

Days used to glow with happiness, contagious enough to spread the ocean with our joyous laughter and youthful energy. Nights would bring a soft wave of tranquility and peace, a reminder to carry not worries in our dreams. And during the darker eclipses I would count the bioluminescent stars keeping watch from the abyss below till I fall asleep.

Now all is cast into Gaea's wrath.

Momma told me this story, back when legends were spun into mere fluttery emerald ribbons, when truth did not carry the sharp edge that slowly carves reality. When torches of greed were put to Gaea's trees, when her offspring were sent to slaughter, when her pristine tears of anguish were further sullied by the ink man had wield in hopes of rewriting her essence, the gallows loom closer.

But now man has bred a different kind of ignorance, a discovery of milky sponges that threaten to ensnare the world in colorless reality. Where sins take on apparitions of tangible ghosts whichever way I swim. Where my golden armor cannot lead them to the clearer waters no more. Where this is no nightmare, no hoax gone wrong, but simply an evolution made for the survival of destruction.

And how I yearned for the olden days, days of unreachable past. Sometimes I gazed at hard icy bubbles, searching for a nonexistent future. But little did I know, it was right in front of me.

Cold.

Lifeless.

Warped.

A wasteland of things long forgotten.

And nothing like it seemed.

And though I vowed to not crumble, my sanity can only hold for so long. My small heart can only be broken in so many pieces. My mind can only wander so far.

For when I gaze at the heavens for salvation, it is blocked by angels whom have yet to depart. Turquoise, wise elders whose voices are silenced. Fiery, bright youngsters, whom never had a chance to grow. And a single speck of molten gold, a star whose light has dimmed.

A star whom can never be replaced by the ghastly crutch I lean on. No matter how much I yearn for Momma's touch, instead of mankind's.