NOTE: I am so sorry for the delay. I am also sorry (in advance) for the shortness of this long awaited addition, but with the holidays creeping around lately, I've been SUPER busy! Anyway, Happy Holidays, and Merry Reading!

-Momo

EPILOGUE

(in the form of the Diary of Faust)

Days turn to weeks, and weeks turn to months, and months to years and years to decades and so forth and so on until there is nothing left. Nothing. Eras…dynasties…entire kingdoms, empires, falling in and out, men fighting for the same things over centuries, and thus, there is nothing.

I've been fighting not but one battle. Just one. Death. The old Gentleman Death himself, cloak and all in his darkness of his whole heart, fearing nothing, taking everything.

There's, of course, no dealing with, no talking to him. Oh, Heaven help you if you so much as breathe a whiff of his air! Ah, the darkness consuming my heart thus far has been nothing but a thick coat of ash, waiting to once more be blown off by the simplest of sighs from my beloved.

Beloved. Beloved, I cry for you. I kill for you. I live only for you, my dearest lovely. To take you into my arms, to have my fingertips dance across your bared breast once more, to lay my lips upon your frozen cheek, your hair, your face, your eyes…your striking, heart-breakingly beautiful eyes…

Must I continue? It breaks my heart so much. Oh, thou art too fair! Too fair! I weep then, toss my soul to Hell, for only the Devil can help me. Only Satan can defy the logic I have come to know. Only he cannot stop me, but just watch me burn myself, inside to out.

But why do I continue? I ask myself. Why do I do such torturous things! Ah, is the answer not in front of my very eyes? It is she. She. None other than, ever stunning, ever eternal, ever…ever mine.

I stutter and stammer and what not, I shake and I cry and I wake and I die, but she…she is there. Only she can reconcile me to the Heaven I so wish for. My beloved, hold me closer, no, don't let go…no…come back to me…

Poetics, prayers, screams, condemnations, the whole I've gotten, some from myself more than others. And in my pride, my strife, I fall. I perish, as any would. Scratch at the walls of time, do I, until my fingernails are long worn and my heart has been long torn.

Such things…such torturous things should never be seen, heard, spoken of, at the least. But not I. I live for these things…only hope dying…only faith constricted in evil…a bottomless abyss of nothingness has become my heart, my mind astray in oceans of desolation. Decadence has befallen me.

Such things…such torturous things…I cannot abandon.

-Johann Faust VIII

Translated from German text

For the sake of those who wish to read it