And it was made to rubble.
Seven piles of seven stones each now created in a circle before me, subsequent to a trickle of fire that rained from the sky.
Seven deaths entailed the seven broken bodies that were now cast off the edge of the rock precipice that was once a great tower's base.
Seven ships continued to fire seven volleys into a now-crumbling cliff, which was now leaning and falling towards a red sea.
And I realize that for the past seven years, we could have never have hoped to reach the heavens by erecting such an edifice. Because of our lust for power, we are banished to an eternal state of unrecognizable babble, further twisting our broken aspirations in the faces of our true likeness and communicating only nonsense.
I look down at the ground and see the piles of rock that lay in front of me. The amount of days it took Him to bring me into being. The amount of years it took us to reach Him. The amount of minutes it took His elite to decimate our endeavors.
The sky is red and we begin our last book. It is my Revelation.
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