MagniloquentMurmurs

In the halls of our sacred ideology I pass you by, down into the pillared sanctums of my thought stained by heresies of doubt and in the silences of ideas abode the soft whispers of incense ascend cloying in their airy mass smothering the will to breathe. Believe You shall ascend to be invested with holy vestments of your proof written with the pen of ages upon the parchment of your unmyelinated flesh Doubt and stand before the masses censured by the heights of colossal statues of men past that leave you shivering in their shadows and hear the dirge of their approaching the incantations whispering of a mass communal thought before the