I’m not a prayerful guy by nature, but my one consistent plea to the great infinity beyond my comprehension has been that this example of necrotic toxicity gets the opportunity to intimately understand his place in humanity’s halls of existence. In my appeals to the vacuous expanse, it is my naive optimism that allows me to hope that there occurs a singular moment where he achieves enough awareness that, as exemplified in the poem Ozymandias, he presents before the vast and empty sands of time and know that he mattered not. His only ability existed in making others recoil in disgust. Such an ephemeral epiphany where he palpably fathoms his aloneness, embarrassment, and bereftness of internal rest in salvation by his actions and lifelong pursuit to refuse life’s opportunity to create peace in a universe of chaos.

I, unfortunately, understand that I am asking too much.