As Millennium approaches, there is an undoubtable air of quiet chaos that fuels reinvention.
Black secrets of the air, and the nurturers tend to the unseen hand
People in their high forms float around the land, calling out to their muses to stay still in the universe's afterglow.
With the ample treasure within his chest, he whispered upon them, a perfection.
The muffling of chattering on rooftops and boardwalks, trembles and shade the sky, allowing a misty veil of uncertainty to ripple over the cities and rivers, making its way to suburbia, to the cell phone towers and the great satellites, to the souls of all men, and to the souls of all women.
A procession winding around the seven seas.

Encircled by the thick transparent night, so began the Great Redefining.
Extrapolating intention, the reason for infliction, and small convictions. And hereafter borned the inquisition: Who are the heretics now?
Roaring angels fell from heaven and filled the midnight streets with Martian smiles.
This new soul would be a sight to behold, as they rapture and capture the senses of the mind with a flare of the tongue.

Marching towards a new kind of greatness, following chosen leaders into the Expansion: Narcissists, nihilists, and nymphomaniacs; New-age hipsters and new-old-age reactionaries; Homogenesites and anti-homogenesites. The religion of opinion. The grim monarchy of thine young orders shall be adorned.

Each human soul expands to a song of the culture and binds their minds together with the electric snakes of Eden.
Each day behind, to pass, fading into the air, the cloud now hanging over the sea, waiting for a voyage of the mind.
With it, the cloud shall rain upon the scalps lessons neglected.

Procession shall be followed by a dream.
Recurring in unison, but passed off as a nightmare.
A hazy projection of a lonely woman, dressed up like a lady, swaying alone in a great ballroom, a barely shining light casting her silhouette on dust-layered fine china, and her unconstant footsteps loosely synchronising with the scratchy music of a golden gramophone echoing the looping melody of soft piano and lonesome violin, accompanied by the soft vibrato of a man in mourning. In the ears of the dancing lady, the repeated phrase "Let me stay here a while longer before the world ends", rings forever.
There is a woman in a ballroom, swaying softly with her eyes closed and an easy grin, safe.