The Gifted Child

Here is a poem, rahter depressing, about the choices of morality in our world, within a parallel world, with magic. Virgil grew rather found of it whilist writing, and though much darker than others, is anxious to present it to you.

It was an accident, really:
that is all I may say,
no words to contribute,
no quotation to pay.
The Deathly Gates before me now,
wreathed in flame, untamed,
admit me to Death itself,
where forevermore, and nevermore,
I shall reside.

The sun had set beneath the village that night,
the hooting of the owl,
the screeching of its prey mouse;
these sounds greeted me as I left the hut of my house.
The stars seemed to shed a tear even for me,
walking unbeknownst into eternal misery.

Corpses would litter the ground tonight,
all dead by my right, by my deed.
It was not intentional sadicy,
but felt so good to me --
to my empty heart and me.

I was raised without parents,
in the hovels of the poor.
I was fed gruel and glop and others galore.
My clothing was none, my eyesight crossed,
my mind so slow, as if it would rot.
But I had not Love, upon recollection,
which lead me now, to my ultimate destruction.

That was the emptiness to be found in the cavities of my heart,
that was that vacuum of nothingness, that black hole,
which allowed me to possess -- yes: the magic.
Perhaps it would replace my lack of all else,
for I was quite adept, you should know.
Adept enough, even, to pass beyond that realm of sorrow,
into pure evil. But it was an accident, and he made me do it.

He was called Satan, and seemed so kind.
He showed me images of what I might become, and it was appealing.
I saw endless riches, and houseservants,
and the prime foods of the world, all mine.
All mine, with none to slap me, to bleed me,
to make the empty space hurt.
But the empty space was no longer.

I suppose that was why Satan befriended me:
he said I was special, he told me I had a gift.
Such kind words had never met my ears.
And I was pleased.
He reminded me of the images
of great grandeur,
and told me instructions, which I should follow.

They seemed rather nasty, really,
the deeds ahead, but all to the riches,
all to the glory. I would do it.
I heard Satan's cackle, a sound that had become solace to me,
after my years of misery. I smiled myself,
and I hugged him.

I swear I was not in my right mind,
out of it, even. But someone had to use the magic.
Satan told me about a nasty man named Jesus,
and how he had whipped himself up a following --
and many of the village's people were amongst them.
Satan wanted them dead. For they were cold,
and could not comprehend eternity, what the world's ways were.

And so I departed from my little hut,
and stroked my little face,
a face that had never seen love before.
With crossed eyes I seated myself in the cave,
and prepared the magic.

Now I chanted, and I stood.
My eyes glowed red, they burned.
My hands were illuminated.
Continuing my rant I left the cave,
back up the path to the village.
I released the spell, and they all fell dead.

And I smiled as I joined them.

As I looked upon Jesus, standing in the clouds,
I felt, for the first time, true warmth, true love,
and it surged through me.
I knew I had misplaced my friendship.
For Jesus frowned at me, and shook his head.

As the Heavenly Realm dissentegrated before my eyes,
I now knew how to properly fill that empty space.
There was the love of God, and the endless companionship of Jesus.
The true master of the universe, was about me all the while.
But I never listened.
And now I've Hell to pay.

The Deathly Gates before me now,
wreathed in flame, untamed,
admit me to Death itself,
where forevermore, and nevermore,
I shall reside.