Chakra. For Nathan Ingram.

The grass all died in one day. Grew sparse and made way for the eye to find dry ground beneath it. And upon it sat foe and him. He's been sitting, facing foe. Moments in time are drawn into one and tied. He stands, eyes widen as he realizes, wind rushes through his mind blows the smoke from behind his eyes to clear his head. A single thought, YOUR GOD. "I sought your death, and would have found it, had I the strength to draw this blade against your skin." With understanding his mind changes. The scene shifts around him. God is "gone". Pure nothing is what to become now. He stops, offers himself as such.