When you finally found the courage, and you stepped upon the Pantheon open to the sky. Bathed by the olden lights of immemorial dawn, accompanied by footsteps, each whom you fondly knew by sound. You passed limitless columns leading up flights adorned by gold, approaching the throne that sat above.
He was like a presence more than a face, someone you felt drawn to. You blamed him, many times for his inaction, but reached out your hand regardless, for he always cheered you on.

{You mistake survival for purpose. You mistake motion for meaning. The ability to destroy your accumulation. Kon calls this the stage of insanity, where you see through all illusions and no longer require all validation, establishing your inner-self. Then from there, to no longer use borrowed beliefs}

[I don’t have the strength to write all of your story.
But, I will record your fragments. In the future,
Somebody will know of your existence.
In the next life, fulfill your dream—take us away from here]