Februum. When all sorts of inquisitiveness pushes you further to the creeping approach of curiosity, and the brimming husk of assurance can no longer hold forth the impeding desire to plunge. To leap, diving into the deep blue deep with the inevitable splash of reprieve. The tranquil texture of the facade couldn't fool me, I see through the ripples and undulations. God's vivid illumination against the azure simply taunts me further, a mere dip of a finger will not do. I want to immerse, so badly.

A dampness so complete, a vision blurred by eddies with the droning background tint of the arcane. It is another realm of it's own, spectacularly mirroring it's exact outlook from the inside. Though, I am not overwhelmed as perceived. Little by little, I lose the sense of sense. To an extent where I become almost completely numb and blunt. I wanted to be, but I don't know whether I want to be now. My existence still counts for something, even against the coldest of entities. As insignificant as I may be, my reflection still beholds me to resurface with every fizz from my bitter body. And when I do, I can only be drenched with clarity and opportunities. I will hold true to my name and float against the current. I will breathe. Februum. The birth and death of me.