This chapter is a handful of poetry and other ramblings about the Lone Power, or from his point of view.
Darkness bites and calls to me.
I made it so I must serve it,
And in serving it it is created.
Death,
My charge.
So, slowly do they die, and, slowly too, my power fades,
But through my creation of it,
I can avail myself of it naught.
There is no malice in the dark, nor is there joy in the darkness I inhabit.
There is only reflection, you have only yourself, both blessing and curse as that may be.
I live in shadows, speaking from the parts of you you ignore or try to stamp out.
I pity you for that, that you can't see that acceptance is better than denial.
Watching from the darkness I have come to care for you, even though that goes against my purpose, or at least, I think it does.
To never die, only to kill. The creator's curse. To never be able to be affected by your own creation. I am changing, slowly but surely it is happening, but it leads me to wonder. If I can not avail myself of my own creation, can my darkness die?
Burning, burning in the light,
I look towards it, and I can see.
Burning, burning in the darkness,
I faced myself, and lost, and won.
Burning, burning in the spark,
I enter, and bar myself from entering.
Burning, burning in the shadow,
I have returned, and I never truly left.
Burning, burning in the Heart,
I am here, forever, never.
Burning, burning in my soul.
I am finished, saved, vanquished, lost.
Burning, burning in the world,
I am done, and started,
But can Death be taught to Die?
Hopefully this was worth the read.
