The world of phrases

Where less croackings is anticipated, in a place full of wise pens, where certain phrases are formulated, where uniqueness of individuals is recognized. In the cosmos full of anonymous desolates, through a flat squared surface, an obsidian sword that's darker than the black hole, that is used by the wielders to leave an X marks, where a horde may see, where unknowns befalls X. In a world of phrases, individuals are a mystery, X are within the unknowns, in this void they'll keep wielding, in this space where they'll leave an X full of secrecy.