Masaya. Our creation, our idea of permanence, of a guarantee. Our insight into the future we planned so delicately, so meticulously. Details, details, the details that composed each detail. We got lost in our own illusions.
Masaya was no lie. Masaya is my reality, Masaya is my stability, my trust, a part of us that will go on, whether we do or not. Engraved.
This is more than just a memory. This is greater than just a phase, or a page in book. This is the book itself, strongly bound. This is the sunrise and the tri-colored sky, and the sunset with too many stars to fill one sky.
This was reality, and it crashed. This was perfection, and it's scarred. This was hope, and I'm still hoping.
This is still my eternity, eternally. This is you.