Time passes like a frenzied, everlasting storm. The force of the gale never rising, never falling, never changing. From the beginning to the end of eternity the storm spans, wearing away at those caught within its uncaring winds.
In a light all my own amidst darkness pure and plain, I watch. Those who will know this same light are not yet weathering the storm. Those who knew the light I knew are far beyond my reach, if not my awareness. They struggle to breach the dark depths of the void, pushing out with desperate, fumbling hands. If they do not hurry, those hands will be crushed beneath the boots of those who stand above them in the storm, having grown for so long the head is no longer in control of the feet.
Amidst the darkness I spread light. Light that someday, someone will follow to its source. Through the void, through the black, past the stomping boots of giants in the storm, past night so heavy none who enter its shadow ever see the dawn. They will follow the light to the only one who can give them what they do not know they need. What they do not know they lost. They will follow the light, and they will find salvation.
They will find me.