The Big-O
The Paradox of Paradigm
Written by: Spike Spiccardo
WARNING: If you have yet to see episodes 14-26 of The Big-O, TURN BACK RIGHT NOW!
A/N: This poem is a reflection piece from my own POV about the end of the series.
The Paradox of Paradigm (Spike Spiccardo's POV)
And so... there it goes.
Another wasted fortcentury of discovery.
Another forty years, wasted on a time that wasn't ready
To accept it's views. To accept it's chaos.
It's a shame we all face someday,
The eternal loss of our memories.
Over and over again, we continue to face a death
That cannot be contracted
And cannot be compounded.
It's a fate that awaits the world as it ends
From time to time and time again.
Face your darkening shadows of a lingering thought
That proves no mercy
And shows no faithfulness to you.
'Tis a shame, really.
'Tis a waste to see such talent be lost
To a warm ungering of danger.
I can't believe what will be done
In the name of God.
It's a sad shame indeed that we shall all soon be overcome
By everything we HOLD SO DAMN DEAR!
If it is as we are to be told, then all we do is sink
Into an oblivious terror of madness
And chaos, and darkness.
Where I am the king.
And I do not invite strangers into darkness.
The familiar shadows around me see the awakening eyes of my soul
Prying into the truth.
But you don't see that.
What you see is your failure, through and through.
But me, I see everyone's failures.
I view you as you do not view yourself
Or your allies
Or every enemy you make.
I view you through the eyes of a wanderer,
A valiant without a soul,
A lingering traveler without food, water, shelter,
Or family.
But what I do is none of your concern.
Now turn, if you will, to a man of little pride,
Who is willing to falter his weight for the death of himself.
It's a sad thing to see, such a thing to waste,
To watch it all go by, and all I do is sit here and watch
From the comforts of the shadows
And play games with shape-shifting battles.
And I awaken the thought with glee.
I awaken the momentless battles of back-breaking, bone-chilling,
Spine-thrilling killing of the heart.
Watch the veins in your muscles rip themselves out
And watch them flee toward Paradigm City.
It's an empty feeling for you;
It's a wonderful feeling for me.
Now, watch me bleed on you
For all the pain you've caused to me.
For forcing me home to the shadows
Where all that awaits me
Is the thrilling arrival
Of a brand-new dawn.
-Spike
The Paradox of Paradigm
Written by: Spike Spiccardo
WARNING: If you have yet to see episodes 14-26 of The Big-O, TURN BACK RIGHT NOW!
A/N: This poem is a reflection piece from my own POV about the end of the series.
The Paradox of Paradigm (Spike Spiccardo's POV)
And so... there it goes.
Another wasted fortcentury of discovery.
Another forty years, wasted on a time that wasn't ready
To accept it's views. To accept it's chaos.
It's a shame we all face someday,
The eternal loss of our memories.
Over and over again, we continue to face a death
That cannot be contracted
And cannot be compounded.
It's a fate that awaits the world as it ends
From time to time and time again.
Face your darkening shadows of a lingering thought
That proves no mercy
And shows no faithfulness to you.
'Tis a shame, really.
'Tis a waste to see such talent be lost
To a warm ungering of danger.
I can't believe what will be done
In the name of God.
It's a sad shame indeed that we shall all soon be overcome
By everything we HOLD SO DAMN DEAR!
If it is as we are to be told, then all we do is sink
Into an oblivious terror of madness
And chaos, and darkness.
Where I am the king.
And I do not invite strangers into darkness.
The familiar shadows around me see the awakening eyes of my soul
Prying into the truth.
But you don't see that.
What you see is your failure, through and through.
But me, I see everyone's failures.
I view you as you do not view yourself
Or your allies
Or every enemy you make.
I view you through the eyes of a wanderer,
A valiant without a soul,
A lingering traveler without food, water, shelter,
Or family.
But what I do is none of your concern.
Now turn, if you will, to a man of little pride,
Who is willing to falter his weight for the death of himself.
It's a sad thing to see, such a thing to waste,
To watch it all go by, and all I do is sit here and watch
From the comforts of the shadows
And play games with shape-shifting battles.
And I awaken the thought with glee.
I awaken the momentless battles of back-breaking, bone-chilling,
Spine-thrilling killing of the heart.
Watch the veins in your muscles rip themselves out
And watch them flee toward Paradigm City.
It's an empty feeling for you;
It's a wonderful feeling for me.
Now, watch me bleed on you
For all the pain you've caused to me.
For forcing me home to the shadows
Where all that awaits me
Is the thrilling arrival
Of a brand-new dawn.
-Spike