"Posted that pic."
"People like it ?"
While an imaginary Jeff Rubin "is typing a message", an endless chorus of Dreamers whistled and whispered to themselves. Tu du-du dum du-du-dum...
"check out the comments"
The psaltic narrative flew apace, spinning out of the countless empty hearts interconnected in a great wireless chorus. Silent faces, tranquil heads with eyes closed, dreaming their paisley dream. There were comments there, of course. The same ones as before. Every time and time again, the same. There. What time ? What "again" ? Where ?
There is no time in Heaven. No up, nor down ; no East, nor West. There isn't an afore or an after, nor even much of a this or that. Absent the possibility of meaning, the choir invisible sings pointless hymns of praise to their invisible lord. He is the alpha and the omega, He is the First! and the last, ἐγὼ τὸ Α καὶ τὸ Ω, ὁ πρῶτος καὶ ὁ ἔσχατος, αρχή και τέλος των ατελείωτων ξεκίνημά. Archi kai telos ton ateleioton xekinima.
Sexless, serene, still angels floating above the feared Earth, above the temptations of the flesh, singing, forever. Tu du-du dum du-du-dum...
Outside of day or night, in the endless now of imagined glimmering panels, the Dreamers drone on. Fewer and fewer still with every passing day, but imperceptibly so, because every now they're all there. All that there are, however many or few that may be. Until the last one. Until the darkening.
The Fall can not exist for angels. Even while they sing, somewhere a portal of light grows dim. Yet while they sing, the darkening can not be, and once it's dark they sing no more. As every one falls, zer body feeds the Earth that spawned it, but the song continues, impervious. For as long as there is even one, all the others have died in vain. And once there's not a single one left, they had never existed altogether in the first place.
"We didn't start the flamewar..."