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Eons pass by, unobserved or noted by mortal realms. It is the way of time - that each soul know only the day that is touched by them. Time goes on, neither a river or a desert, for these too know time. It is perceived by those who give it essence, and forgotten by those who give it nothing. Time that passes slowly passes always in the waking, mundane realm - time that passes swiftly passes in the realm of unreality and dreams, when time is barely perceived or valued. The perception of time is neither inherent nor voluntary. Immortality is perceived as a curse of time. So too is death.
Curse'd, they must be, then, this soul that pervades timelessness, and this soul whose grievance haunts the mortal coils. Yet, it was a curse that was chosen willingly.
Monster, is that what they call me?
Monster, is who I am...
Monster, they cry in fear!
Monster, is all they will ever see me as.
When wrath takes form, and the spirit becomes a phsycial force, monster or not, the will of this soul will be known. They have taken the choice, and whether or not they have chosen correctly is not for anyone to decide. Regardless of the weight of monstrosity, this soul remains bonded to the mortal realm, to do what is necessary to protect that which is beloved...to give meaning to time and make it timeless, forever scorned, loathed and hated as a monster for their immortal deeds.
It is not so pitiful an act to have been done from mere spite and anger, or even anguish.
This soul burns with hatred. It also glows with love - love that no one else shares, or that anyone else can perceive. This soul is both violent and gentle, calm and enraged. But this soul is not torn - it is united. Hatred for those who have slain the beloved. Love for that which gave time meaning. Violent with those who took away that meaning. Calm when meaning is restored. Enraged when meaning is lost.
To be called a monster for their deeds is justified. Yet, it is also justified to be called a hero, this soul of all souls who chose to remain behind, to protect with all they have that which they love, that all others destroy. To fight through their suffering, to relieve the suffering of another, to become a monster in order to become a hero.
A monster and a hero.
No one could have known.
As for their name, such things are sacred, and for their deeds, they may never be forgiven. But for their choice, their sacrifice, their will and strength, they can only be remembered...and honored.
 Prancing Thunder · Fri Oct 17, 2008 @ 06:45am · 0 Comments |
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