My essence is that of my fathers.
These arms have carried centuries,
these legs have endured the weight of devils,
these eyes have seen sin incarnate,
and still
this essence is adamant.
These letters are eternity's own.
Written with the venom of great serpents-
it smolders into history.
I break bread with Knowledge Gods
as arrows of Sun pierce through Earth's armor.
Pride is at my grasp,
in its purest essence,
it quivers like my heart.
I stand on ground where Tiamat once roared,
digging my feet into the remnants of epic heroes.
Their legends are dust, lost in the wind,
AND I refuse to descend like them.
Neither Earth nor wind will bury my testament,
this essence,
will break through the elements.
We build storms of carnage
around the cadavers of martyrs.
They are our demigods,
Incas and Mayans and Aztecs,
I fear the red clouds in their stare,
and that anger, that brutal instinct,
that is the essence.
I can taste it like fire.