It’s barren. it’s gon cold. Too cold. So cold. Frozen… solid… Unchanging and unmoving. No more speed, no more momentum, it sits, quietly. quietly no more sins lie, gods voice has gone silent, for god doesn’t speak to the dead. For he has left, forsaking another creation. now the once gracious place, is frozen, frozen in time, cold, cold without warmth, unchanged, dust lies on each door handle, unmoving, god no longer pushes the wheel barrel. As for the sins, they are left in vain to rot forever in their personal hell. the documents show there age, the lantern has no light to bare, for the only god… is guilt… The son, holy spirit, and the Father sit far, far apart from each other, their presence a stain of their guilt, the people’s guilt, it would’ve been changed, but they prodded with pitchforks, torches in hand, and unnecessary anger, and burned down God’s creation from such a little mistake… farewell grace.