And there grows near the foretold time. A time when the truth breaks forth, like a chicken from its shell, at the moment of birth, into the world. The truth is upon the wind and the wind becomes a gale. Once set free, the truth travels and releases the knowledge. And there shall be those on both sides who do not wish the truth known. And yet shall it become known to all. On that day, shall Human turn against Human, against his own kind, and brother shall slay brother and friend shall kill his friend in the name of truth.
Then he shall have been the first, but his truth shall go unheeded, and the children shall betray him. One of his own shall bring forth the tempest. And the child shall lead and so shall he become the first and be the last.
In the end, there shall only be two kinds of Humans: those who believe and understand and those who fear. The truth is upon the wind, and the wind becomes a gale, and shall blow across the land to devastate all within its path. The wind shall blow ill. And so doth the time of ending become a plague upon all the land.
The Messenger rides forth alone. The wall of stone is false and ‘tis but made of clay, which shattered as the balance is shattered. They who speak this truth are the first to die. The Messenger carries forth the divine truth unto the masses.
The death is accomplished by the hand of evil, which is mistaken for the Sword of Right. But though the lips are silent, the heart screams and the words rise as the Phoenix to herald the end of the beginning.
As the storm grows more ponderous, they shall hear the wind song. And what was fantastic will be reality, and reality shall be proven. He who is the first, he who is the last, shall know the truth. And as they do, so shall all, and the tempest subsides, leaving only the destruction, a memory, the voices an echo and the truth evident.
The Earth is shaking violently. I have recently been able to feel it somehow. I can't really feel it physically, but I feel it deep withoin my very being. She is trembling, Mother Earth. She is changing. I can feel her changing. The metamorphosis has begun. My heart saddens as I feel this change. It is not for the better, but for the worst. For certain creatures, it will be better. But for most, it will be worse. It will not stay the same for any being. We shall all feel her move. She will tremble, for she will be fighting to save her own. Her red, hot fury shall be known, for she will be fighting alone. Her screams shall be heard through the hurdling winds. Her tears will be known as they wash ashore.
"The sky turns black as she fades away. Her sweet air will be stale, for she, Mother Earth, will have tasted death. The Sun shall not show her joyous face. The Moon shall turn red from Mother Earth's blood, as life will seem to cease.
Slowly as the darkness dies, life will show it's face. Very few will rejoice that they have survived: others will mope and weep. An uncountable number will have died. Now that the darkness has gone, life rebuilds itself. But woe unto those who are not prepared, for the worst is yet to come