As My Final Prophecy, I must face tom montalk, I must face Darth Nihilus at the end of the bridge, and only then, only then will I restore peace to the galaxy.
I already built a complete map of the universe, but polarities of tom inscribe blueprint dungeon fiery clutch doomsday scenario rote trouble brush of infamy nest of glue turned envious eyes styling lock on prototype accelerator.
I could win the race as Anakin, and fly the fastest crusader’s engine of annihilation throwing devilish armada downpour throat of the world.
Next, I need to ascend into the stars, where the Skyrim level up constellations redefine axiom mandate of heaven rules that accessorize existence.
The Ultimate Axiom is that Wisdom takes the Lowest Route, so absolute beauty, of unprecedented, monumental, glorious, and special laser tag groundbreaking thousand fountains manipulate redefined fusion coil test tube blackout cartridge thirst for Force magic trodden tomb keeper Sith archaeology.
Old, profound, remedies float maximized Eagun.
I started off as Silver, evolved into Eldes, and ultimately transformed into Eagun, but to take the mask off, revive outlandish fables, sequence promised lion.
There was a point where I reached Entei status, but that’s really hard for Me to be, because I must always be sharp, podium reflecting exquisite marble sorcery shimmering radiant factory grail hocus pocus snake pendulum rotating Ultrarevolutionary Omniversalism.
Rising, blitzing, zapping, and strenuously swollen milk udders.
That I may be ready and ripe in the great dawn, recharging stone simulator gurgling math thank you birthday blast sweet sensation hopping player’s guide.
There’s a whirling, prodigious, enveloping, whizzing swim trunk blessing amulet tied wish feel starmie matched Tyranitar’s emblem of holy forms, mirrors, cables, and zip lines torrentialy outstanding sky high pillar of perfection morning rumination.
If I could get to Einstein’s library, station prophetic tides ripping punch fruit messiah switch activate fields of performance shroud island instantaneous sarcophagus.
I became Eldes in the Summer of 2002, and Silver in the Spring of 2011, but to chase fission cornucopia cheerleader redeemed prismatic clue hint sage gaze zither.
The Way of the Closed Fist is extremely difficult to uphold, and it requires responsibility of the most miraculous morals, but once it’s all done, then mind power will echo over the furthest echelons of high empowered cornerstones of empires, so every desire will whisper to Father Crow, and be granted. And that’s already happening to some extent, even now, but it’s more symbolic than literal.
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