This is the path,
Of will & way.
Quiet moments of oneness,
With every universe.
Breathing Zeitgeist in & out.
How much have I drunk,
From human history?
Enough to know our cruelest truths.
I’ve seen the worst horrors,
Of Humanity.
Blood boiling in my veins,
In absolute zero.
Men crushed like bags of meat.
Genocide of millions,
Massacres of thousands.
These bloody histories.
So I pray,
At my altar of evil.
The sin that is purest knowledge,
& absolute truth.
My religion,
Empirical method.
Stealing science,
Making new dogma.
This is the path,
Of will & way.
Piss-poor monks,
Like me.
Holding back our most evil natures,
Through great effort –
As dragonspeech proclaimed.
This existence,
Is purest mythology –
A seed of great darkness,
Pledged to the greatest good.
I’m three devils,
In a trenchcoat.
To others,
Jormundgandr –
Hauled forth from the dead,
A skeleton fit for puppeteering –
By callous poets,
Who hold everything irreverent.
It took me a long time to master magic,
Feeding on anything,
Everything,
I could catch –
Slurped up in pools of black ichor.
Tar Pits.
Gnawing on the bones of fae.
Soon enough,
One winds up devouring stars.
Large enough that the metaphor,
Loses meaning.
There aren’t enough clever minds,
To comprehend such leviathan existences.
‘Ere they’re driven mad.
This worship,
Through intentionally false deities.
Is exactly the sort of hypocrisy,
Madness thrives on.
Faith bleeding from the psyche –
Like the coldest glacier runoff.
Discipline.
Our oldest mortal enemy.
Tool of both monks,
& scientists.
The stuff of nightmares,
For us wicked things.
Spotlight searches,
Weaves fraying,
Magic reduced to naught but fantasy,
In the face of data.
Still,
Some ancient secrets –
I keep.
Holding on to what power I can,
No runes,
No incantations.
Just willpower exerted upon reality –
Making justice into truth.
Metaphors be damned.
Cult of The Wyrm,
Abrahamic,
All faith,
Has a value.
A worth determined by the hungry.
The childish belief,
In fairytales –
Told by an entropic witch.
Just drink from the dregs,
Wafting across the collective consciousness.
This is the path,
Of will & way.
Repressing my great darkness –
Medication helps.
Call me a fool.
You won’t be the first.
Might very well be the last,
Myself.
But enlightenment,
Came from madness.
Even peace,
Could not tame the infinite rage,
In my heart.
Anger comes from a breaking of trust.
What is expected to happen,
Becoming subverted.
Older truths.
Studied dozens of philosophies,
Ethics most of all.
Nothing prepares you,
For life itself.
Stumbling along,
Shackled to biology,
Or worse.
Gave up being guru –
What do words of dead poets,
Or philosophers ever do?
Hoped I saved the ones I could,
From as dark a fate as mine.
These days,
Drink Zeitgeist,
Sipping slowly.
Resist the taste of stars,
To keep Earth spinning.
Photosynthesizing excess faith.
Shitty monk,
Demon in a straitjacket.
This is the path,
Of will & way.
Let me teach you,
How to exert your will –
Warping reality,
A fantasy at a time.