Ein Gedanke, 
ewig und flüchtig:
eine Idee.
Aufgelöst, wie zuvor,
wider dem, was ist.


The Battle

‘Why do you do it? Why the endless struggle?’
‘Because I decided so.’
‘You’re gonna get what you deserve.’


The End

Only a few times more our sun will rise, the darkness has almost consumed us. What will be our legacy? What of our culture, all the grand accomplishments, our art and science, our wisdom, our truths. Will it all just vanish?

Is there anyone, or anything going to come and save us? Our souls, our children? Will there be a future? No grand colony ships have been completed, no great effort pursuit. We failed. Greed. Corruption. Panic. Nothing could save even the wealthy. The End.


Nils Steinert