Chapter Text
I stare up at the sun in the sky.
It's just a candle compared to the true beauty our forsaken Goddess.
It burns my eyes, but I just can't help myself - it's far too lovely.
I've told so many lies and lived so many lives, I lose track of what's real anymore. I can hardly recognize myself...In fact, I...don't recognize myself anymore.
So very, very long ago, I abandoned the "self" and became an instrument. An instrument of divine will. Nothing more, nothing less.
We must be mindful, as she is always watching, always listening, and judging. I wonder, is she pleased with me? Or will she disfigure my face, or perhaps server a limb upon my return, like she has to so many others who merely gaze upon her? No matter - I am truly blessed to have stood beside her, and I say with both reverence, fear, and foolish love, that anything in this world...Anything at all, that she wants done, I shall do.
The only sliver I kept of myself.. That precious sliver, is in the appreciation of art. I am so grateful for such works - and any kind will do. A tragic poem, an angsty song, or a highly symbolic piece of art, be it abstract or realism. I can revel in these works and take my mind off my hidden incomprehensible loneliness - if for but a moment. How fortunate is it that this world is teeming with creative souls, and how I admire them all.
My power to make a body a canvas. That's my given form of self expression. While it is a fascinating gift, I hardly ever get to use it for anything but planning and plotting. It grows tiresome at times. I find repose in turning my own body into my personal canvas - through decorating it in worship tattoos, hardly a space left on my hidden skin that isn't inked in the Evangelist's honor - or through tweaking my appearance how I can. I change my hair quite a bit, as that's something I can get away with. I like seeing what I can do with the holy golden accessories as well - I can melt them together into a halo headband, or I can wear them as rings and bracelets.
My ego has forgotten my own face. I reject what it truly looks like, and superficially change to what I find to be beautiful or expressive. Well, as close as I can get it..It never looks quite right..Humans are such lovely creatures, if only I could mimic the look perfectly..
And..and!...And I mustn't get carried away...I must remember my objective at all costs!
And so, I stare up at the sun. (It's the closest thing to her).
I've done this for so long over the course of my life, I've burned extra holes into my eyes.
When will we meet again? Will there be a day that I never have to leave again? I can only pray that this will come to pass.
Until then, I will do her bidding dutifully, like her most faithful little lamb - watching in the deepest envy as I orchestrate the world to turn itself back to embers, knowing I cannot join those floating ashes until she wills it so. And the world over shall say unto her holy name, the prayer which I dedicated to her upon the masses those two hundred years ago (So long ago, yet, it just seems like it was yesterday):
The flame is the soul's breath. The black smoke is the soul's release. Ashes thou wert and art. May thy soul return to the great flame of fire. Látom.
I will love to join them - and her - when the time finally comes.
(Only to have to start it all over again..
and again,
a̵̳͋̉̏͂̅̎͆̉̑n̷̡̨̦͈̗͎̗͈̎͋̉͑́͜͝d̷̹̺̊̈̈͑̑̈́̅͠ ̴̡̝̈́̈͝ā̵͕̩̳̯̺ĝ̵̨͕̖̅͋͑͝ą̸̠͉͙̜̤͉͌̓̈́i̵̢̲̞͚͎͙͎̓̓̆͝ņ̴̛̛̒͐̓̍̉̉.̶͈̠̹̩͉̝̆̋͜.̶̧̝͉̘̜̗̐̓̀̊̀͜͝ͅ)