Originally Posted: 10/17/08
Rumors and lies and ignorance abound. Yours is a shell of a home, a place fit only for the rotting and the bottom feeders. You people make me sick, and I wonder why I've spent so much time dwelling in self-loathing, when there is so much about you to despise. Your tongues are blackened with the filth you pollute yourselves with, and your minds and closed to all but your insignificant world. Your ever shifting eyes see clearly only when they're shrouded. Slithering, hissing snakes, you're nothing more than paltry imitations of the serpent.
Before you open your mouth, think of what it must be like to have your tongue cut out. Remember, I am a vengeful god.
The path provides no shelter, but I'm a force unto my own. The elements do not fear me and I do not fear them. The sun beats down, a blistering star, and I walk beneath its glare. But I will not stop to speak upward. My destination is too far off to wonder about the reason for such things. From all sides I am horrified, witnessing my transgressions and the pitiful, meaningless sins of the others. I realize now, that hiding in the heart of someone else is no real way to live. Sometimes, we need to confront our demons, take up sword and shield and bow against them. Sometimes we need to destroy things because we see in them the reflections of our bitter selves.
Unfortunately, that thing is called home. And I need to burn it down. If only to stop the spread of its malignance, to halt the shadowy way it creeps over everything, poisons all it touches, and withers away the innocence. Not everyone has yet succumbed, but before they do we'll rouse the torches. A pyre lit, the exits blocked. Burn the children trapped within.
Children is the wrong word. Children are not intentionally stupid, not wholly corrupted by their own pathetic choices. Not like these rats I need to set fire to. Perhaps even flames won't cleanse me of the taint, but I think otherwise. I think once the fire sears away what excess horros there are, something new will emerge. And something old. That great, stirring wrath that once made Redemption so feared awakes, begins to rise from hibernation. This is not a rage born of self-loathing, not a lashing out of bad decisions and mistakes. This is something far superior, something supreme. This is no shield, no shell. This is flesh and armor, a natural thing that encompasses the body and, moreover, the soul. Something not to be triffled with, because at the slightest incursion I will destroy you. Do not fear it, but respect it. Lest you fall victim.
In this phoenix form, things need to be re-learned. The old body burns away, the old feelings char and drift off, ashes taken to wherever ashes go. The mind begins anew, wakes to the wonderous world, and the filtered soul is prone to fits of beauty and ecstasy. I draw a rattling breath and see that for the first time in ages my lungs are not polluted. I feel aside a few bits of flesh that remain and toss them behind me. Let the rodents feast on them. Let the carrion birds eat what's left of that creature. I will walk on, because the sun has passed its zenith. It descends toward the distant mountains and, if I am to make it there by nightfall I will need to keep my pace.
Closer still. The journey is long, and it is good that Time has forgotten this place. Such mortal miscnceptions have no place here. I can see Her, somewhere in my peripheral vision. She dances down her path, laughing. I can hear the music, the songs that spring out of Her like gentle progeny. Drop the sword. I have no use for such a heavy burden. I will find my way alone for now, and should I happen on a weapon light enough to carry I will take it. She vanishes from sight, around a bend. My path, likewise, takes me away, deeper. There is a kind of darkness here, and a kind of cold, but nothing like a winter night. These are not physical, not really even tangible. I cannot taste the darkness, I cannot feel the biting cold. No snow, nor frost beneath my feet. No wind to set my teeth to chatter.
My cold, my darkness, are concepts. Metaphors, perhaps. I carry them within me, and as I burned away my body, so must I purge myself of these burdens. They are too heavy to carry, too much pain to let linger. Why not set them aside, free myself, and walk on? Lift your drinks in toast, for I am filling my soul with sunlight.
On, on, beyond to Twilight,
-Nemsis
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