The
day of the
end, when all the world grows still.
A hush descends upon the weary stage, where once the frantic pulse of life did rage. No
trumpet sounds, no final clash. Only silence claims the conquered field. The curtain falls in solemn, heavy grace, and every light that burned is now erased.
It is the moment when all striving ceases and all is through. The fevered
chase, the glory, and the pain dissolve like morning mist before the rain. What once seemed endless now must bend and break, and in that breaking find its last farewell.
Upon this
day the final chapter closes, and mortal hands no longer grasp at roses.