Indeed, the bell tolls for you, being a carrier for the pestilence. Your life withers before your eyes, as wheat would when it burns.
And it is in this fashion that your sins burn into your soul.
They curl and ingrow, deeper into the puncture until the cancerous growths are sustained by your spirit no more, and may burst to infect more.
Indeed, the bell tolls for them, for their selfishness may be their greatest success, but it is also their downfall.
They wrought the Great Fire unto the world, the ring encircling that great stem. The power of these blooms is not easily resisted.
Those who fought for good fell, or maybe had never existed, and the darkness of the ashen rain pattered unto the littered skeletons.
Indeed, the bell tolls for me, for my own self is flawed. That is our nature, is it not? My questions lack meaning, for I am part of the problem.
I cannot justify myself, could anyone? I cannot strive for holiness, I cannot strive for justification, I cannot strive for hope. Could you? Could anyone?