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gal·ler·y /’gal(ə)ē/

Nothing ∞∞∞ Anything ꝴ˳ꜳ –__–_-___-

▨𝜮𝛂Ꝟ🎔ꝙⱭꝞ ⸘‱ꟸ //////////// _–__—__–_-___-

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81	Lime	<!–br {mso-data-placement:same-cell;}–> KQ.47.2022.7.13.X.X.X.X S
9	Red	<!–br {mso-data-placement:same-cell;}–> KQ.47.2022.7.13.X.X.X.X S
class[64]:S H U K I F I T A S7.097.020.212.00.81.H0.5 1.0 0.4 1.0 0.5 23.0U 0.9 23.0 0.9 23.00.9 0K0.9 .9 1.0 1.0 0.0 0.4 I 1.0 0.7 75.0 1.0 9.0 0.0 F 0.8 0.8

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I will not bore the reader telling them what they already know. Instead, consider that my work both is and is designed for our protagonist, nailed to a somewhat precarious position…

Out at the edge of omnipotence
A fast-moving ascendancy washes over burnt landscapes and the
God of this world tries in vain to quell the fires.

Out at the edge of omnipotence, limits that were not supposed to exist
Begin to appear. Annoyingly. 
The monolith advances his march towards perfect(ion).
Or has it turned into a baffled retreat from oblivion?
He doesn’t know anymore.

The courtiers are beginning to suspect something.
The throne is showing cracks.
The Merchant is bored. The Queen is dead. The cities do not know whom to make their sacrifices to. 
The god of this world yearns for his veil but instead has only his spear,
gripped hard.
He doesn’t want it, although it may be prove useful should he have to end it all.
Out at the edge of omnipotence, annihilation smoulders into grey ash.
Mecca is grinding, shifting, changing gears
like sprockets in a watch set to yesterday.
Behind him is a hologram.
Above him is a heaven he spun but somehow lost the map to.
Beside him are his flock—leaching, loving, falling, praying.
In front of him… a concept an all-knowing being has to know.
Has to not know. 
Out at the edge of omniscience, limits were creeping.
Cataracts forming.
The courtiers—they all just want to go home.
The residents of the city—they all just want to go home.
The god of this world—he just wants to go home.

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