Proza

Scattering around the pitless void, the clear liquid beads descended slowly and wearily as if time had been slowed down, defeated dejectedly by an unbeatable force that scars unforgettably. For countless of sands of time, there had been no light nor warmth in sight; no movement of life except for the falling rain-like drops. It was merely near empty and barren, dragging everything down with its dull essence and somber aspects.  The abyss was a sight so caliginous with the degeneration of its own entity, for it had formerly thrived with the effulgence of contentment and vitality; with its own ray of aspiration tragically obliterated and direction disorientated in its misleading surroundings, mere globules resembling tears and raindrops had been left in its despondent awakening.

It was very fortunate that despite its weakened state of soul and being, it was still mobile - slow, but progressing actively nonetheless. The archives of remembrance and accounts had been stored deep in the middle, the miniscule container of consciousness. Only more glistening beads would descend and multiply from those jaded yet longing recollections, but clinging mentally to what was left was all the near empty void had needed, for its former, vast contents had abruptly vanished and disappeared.

How unbelievable, for the pit of endless, unseen locations have finally found a new purpose.

As the fragments of its medium’s vitae elapses, a novel occurrence had gradually caked its surroundings. A benign white wall had formed and grew towards the sky aimlessly, and once its formation had been fully developed and composed, an elegant yet slightly immature sconce had been built into the wall by invisible healing hands. Blazing sea of flares had been lit; it was like a gift, a precious source for warmth and light. Its luminescence, over time, had gradually diffused throughout every bit of the dark void, slightly softening the cascading pearls of solitude into light, easy flowing drops. Some of those descending drops had shifted into peaceful nonexistence, no more mourning, for a new purpose and emotion had been discharged through them, alleviating meaningfully. 

An individual, occupied by this now thriving void, reflects on the past, the things that have been lost. With a smile so sad, yet also content and grateful for what has now been gained, the individual strolls along the living walkway.

The falling drops and the barren ambience of the soul have finally discovered a reason to be partially at serenity.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
(This is my first time actually writing something like this during my free time that's not for school or anything like that...It has the same name as one of my poems, called "Ceasing Pearls"[already submitted a while ago], and is pretty much the same thing as the poem, but this time, I decided to write a prose of it. It also pretty much has the same meaning and is based off of my other poem, "Start of a New Time"[also submitted a while ago].)