The beautiful rose with always wilt.
The song of a Nightingale will always end.
All beauty will perish.

All rotten corpses will get more grotesque.
The blackest alley will become more dangerous.
All pain and despair will thrive.

After beauty comes a gruesome truth.
Death, war, pain and famine will conquer.
Nature has the shortest beauty of all

From love and beauty grows pain and ugliness.
However from the plague of rain rises a mighty beauty
That of the Rainbow......This like all others will die out in the end.

-Written By Terath Kemestar after smoking Cactus weed for the first
time-

Penned by my hand on the 7th of Ios, in the year 92 MA.