When the time comes for honor to vanish and eloquence to fade; for men’s dusty glorious banners to tear away from their posts and blow uselessly around in the tepid air, then will the mortals have won with their unrelentless attacks on humanity’s foundation, and all will return to a morbid state of nature to rejoin the grey origins of the past.
But that time is not now, and the day of it’s reckoning has not yet been written.
It is curious to think that all that life has fought for in this inhospitable, opposed construct of chaotic forces and matter will be denied it’s full fruition from the very entity that exposed it to existence. We have brought randomness into symphonies of complexity. We built ourselves out of mere floating dust particles to achieve singularities so bright with meaning that they defied their own constituents that they were made from.
Wild hope and ambitions took their place to confront their seemingly impenetrable prisons until the walls were crushed with pure will.
Alas, it was this very will, this volition of life that will one day destroy itself. With no more true enemies to confront, fear and hatred, coupled with our will has begun to fight itself. We are warriors with no foes, and so, since we must vanquish and destroy, we will do so to ourselves.
I have bourne witness to these events in my perpetual solitude, my spirit unswayed and unlured by the false fantasies presented in the passing moments of eternity. But now the old gods come to me and entreat me to allow myself to be their vessel, and I have agreed with much carelessness. I drink of their essence, and do their bidding in exchange for nothing but the promise of more ineffable knowledge.
There is one goddess who wishes not to entreat me. Her hair and eyes blaze with the sun’s unbridled light, and her lips speak nothing but wisdom and peace. She takes her place among the mortals, tied to them with the karmic rope of compassion. And in her kindness she has blinded her mortal body to the awareness of her true nature. She is Freya, and she has warmed my stone of a heart so that I can now hear the calls of the innocents and respond with pity and empathy. I am hers, entirely; I willingly bonded my soul with hers aeons ago. To her I owe everything, and it is with her that I place my hope. She is my refuge and my praeturnatural lover.