Dark Eternal, it screams for vengeance! Options

Scattered remnant, like the very ashes in the winds of time, their desolation was complete. The power of their life's creation eaten up by violence and greed, exhausted on ruthless pleasures of the hell bound soul. Like a shadow of their fathoming in mind the glory, there they walked on sparks of evil hope. And all that power, their rage and destruction, made for yet another destruction, and each spark exhausted the other, for the conflict was with the very ways of their origins. Given unto the holy death by means of the perfect justice, that for all those whom sparked forward like the shadows of their hope, they joined together and gave birth to a new and sunderingly large eternal sun. It was the rebirth of all hope born of purity in love and trust, and they walked within the heart of their own invincible shield, eternally beneath the shadow of the ones whom in their last moment, had sworn to protect the weak and to let love flourish where it had love for life.

And there rose among them one who's name is forgotten to the pages of history. For so long ago it was that he blasted with his heart and made a world within a world, and loved to dress the garments of sin with perfumes and spicey odors. Like a shaved head and an attractive colone, he reaked of the treachery of one who hid his true nature, and in fact, had let it starve into disgust and perversion. It was a requiem of lost faith in pure love that made him realize that he had allowed himself to be consumed by sadness and despair, and all that hope was turned to anger for the sake of killing people. He loved to curse and swear and behave ludely, always craving the grostesque tragic reality of a defeated king turned into a petty slave, and the disgrace of his youth was manifesting sorrow perpetually. He rises each day only to crave more of things he wants, and given to his delusions, can not see that actual reality that is blessed beyond all cravings. As a wraith he belittles his time with vulgar humor and the smoking of many cigarettes, desperately trying to replace hope with something that was definite and extreme. Death by his own insolence, and the justice fathomed was a righteous bewilderment of the crushed and buried heart where love had once the courage to stand before the darkness and let the light of eternal love shine ever onward into the heavens of what is the truth of all things.

And he bows his head in a shadow of malevolent cunning, uttering the circles of catastrophe and greivous error. Smacking his face he tries to awaken, to suffer the shock of it, rather than not know that it had occurred at all. But the stammering mouth begins to bigiggle itself with childish humor as indeed, already, it had been forgotten. But it was a craving for it that made it manifest unto the moments of the future, how could one give craving of the fine creed away to the monsters who deserve only to be refused entry to the sanctum of the temple where the shadow passeth the veil of time. A lime light and a sparkling color, the trinket of his ways shown as a necromantic shield, and again, ignorance and confusion as the rites were born away into a fathoming of the flesh not known by the power of his belief. Confusion and rage, rage that sparkles into destruction. Now he stand beneath the roof, and wielding weapon of youth, a courage bound to serve the truth, and to stand before the truth of a commandment and a tabernacle. To love the gods who grant us days, and the gods who grant all of us a world to exist within the grand enactment of mind and the truth of all enlightenment. For it was a shining emblem unto their hearts, and a world that was the truth of what one could achieve through love. They did not forsake each other, in the end.

And by the blessed force by which they had their unity, the light of love shines ever forwards, and reflected each time we yield to an embrace, we gain the light of feeling. Awareness and the psychic nourishment, but for those who cast their circles, let them be aware of more than one way to believing something. If they be confused, let them be poor also, and if they are poor, let them not always be poor. If they have a motivation beyond petty cravings, then let them be poor, to learn that there are many people living with riches who have no comfort day to day. Tormented by the lack of compassion, and the missing piece that makes all things in life make sense. Truly, were they lovers of a vulgar thing? To say that it was better to have money than to have justice between our lovers? Or that we should worship because it is said that we are known to worship? Or that we have power to achieve because we have control of our own mental circumstances? What of the spiritual god who sustains all things that exist? HE can grant us immortal life by the very means of his sustaining an existence. HE holds the key of time and dimensions align according to HIS own infinite expanse. Able to perform any act of creation, all things already exist, for they have been created in eternity, and yielded to the mind who is chosen to live within the sacred rites of truth and love's initiation. And The Lone God is judging wisely as to what must be done, and if there be a thing that need doing, it shall be done according to those chosen for the task to be seen through to completion. There is little point in arguing that there must be something worth doing to be sure that right intended mind will prevail unto the objective's realization.

"Shadows..." the adult mage begged with a mirthless voice. "Please, forgive me, spare me of this humiliation. Not now, not now that I have come so far upon this path." The voice of his mind richochetted within the darkness of his sanctum. "I call upon your power, enable me, grant unto me your form." The darkness shivered, waves of thicker black imploding and shredding the light that remained. Darkening, his own light now being shredded, made more dense, given wholly to the form of the shadows and their lord, the energy was enraged and hatred began to cause his erection to lengthen and his chest to tighten his belly with the courage to stand for the sake of something more righteous than a lie. Hatred, despair, coldness and emptiness, there, in his suffocation of the spirit, he had achieved a new reality, the darkness had fully consumed his soul. It was a ritual more often sought than performed, but once performed, ensured that there would be the full degree of power granted by the effect of the will in the opening of the gate. Silence was all around him, darkness was filling his mind. But beings of some form stood there in that shadowy black, the voidal alien gods who had wanted this day to come, for so long they had craved that one be born of the human flesh and the purest intention of the shadow lust. Hence, the encircle him, chanting into him with the purest of all holy fathomable psychic beams, psychic light and shadows were enlivened by the magnitude of their sensation. The time had come, to begin a new meditation, and to cast the magick of the mage class that would inevitably become his standpoint in the days when Armageddon became the leader of the heart and the very cause for rushing into the work force to do the deeds of daily sustinance. The darkness beckons, the shadows crave the souls whom give them the purer of the lights. Ancient Meditation, Silence and Darkness and Soul Power.