Stolen Pretty Eyes
I know where you are now.
You would laugh hysterically and say that of course I know – I am you, as you are me. But it just isn't simple as that.
Down here, you have a whole realm waiting. What in the world would they appreciate about me? Say, who is their god and ruler? Do not tell me you are escaping from yourself, I would never listen. I trust you too much to believe that.
Changing is hard, my Lord; but you are the god of change, not I, and it is natural for you to understand better than me. I broke a cycle of millennia, it doesn't mean I am worthy of becoming you.
Every man is one and himself alone. Deities share even less with anyone else; they are unique entities, each with their own form. The Madgod is you. Not a warrior, not a man. Not me.
You kept your promises. You stole my eyes, yes, you brought them with you. I see the realms you are living in; I have to watch the laughter you share with the skies, as you prepare your triumphant return.
I am but a passage, a bridge for your legs. I shall go, you shall come back through me. Then I will fade in your glory, to let you laugh and laugh once again.
You are playful and light to the point that you know every single weight on this world, that of Time in the first place. In a sky of wrong stars, you are the best of compasses; yet, while you know all of our geometry, I know mine alone. What Madgod can I be, if I cannot handle madness?
This is not my place. I feel your spirit just enough to see how everything calls for your return. You may feel better up there, I admit this – you sit in the clouds after all, you watch the wind, and your voice tinges the air with all the colours you are sending back to us.
But come, my Lord – did you ever look into your servant's eyes? They bear your essence and your soul. They love too much. They love you as you have always been, none other than that.
My hair is young, my eyes clear; the mist of madness will cancel them eventually. I will return in you, you onto me – but why cannot you be faster? What is the waiting of gods like, up in your world, where the strings of Oblivion keep your time from us?
As your eyes are mine, I can see you are never gone. But listen, do not dream away my prayers, so that I can do my best until you come back here.
You made and keep all the secrets of this realm – all but one, and that one is unchanged. I pray you will learn someday. You are you, I am me, and you alone are the one to take my place.
Remember this next time. It is all I ask. This is my one prayer to you, Sheogorath, my God and my Lord.