fires rip the fabric of the earth. 

tears fall, tears open. do not fall in. watch out for that which escapes out.

from the calamity which will follow, there’s no escape. 

you can choose to close your eyes against the glare of napalm lights, envision white shores and emerald country under that swift sunrise, but know a cloud will form; the shape of a mushroom, the fungi that grows where nothing else will, and cover all land in its shadow.

or you can seek out The Moth, she who gives sight to blind worms that burrow towards nothingness, she who offers comfort to the ghost in the darkness.