There was an infinite source of visions in me, once. I remember a life worthy of song, and yet it now appears illusory. A conquest in a dream, unfit for the world of the waking. How can one sing and stutter at the same time? How can those two opposing worlds exist at once?
There was an unending source of nectar within me, but I have lost my taste for it. Like a bitter drink to a child, its flavour is foreign to me now. I doubt that my tongue can even understand its words.
Still I mourn its death, accepting it with open arms when it returns to me – like a prodigal son. Shedding tears, shaking his shoulders, I ask, where have you been? How did you spring back to life, and why?
That first outburst of awe and reverence for the multiverse, and the greatest story ever told – once wild and untamed, now rejuvenates and reinvigorates me. As I mature, as my eyes see ever more clearly, fragments of their former wisdom are lost forever. Some simple truths break off from my mind like an ancestral home, abandoned, with each passing generation – losing a shard of its value.
But I have grown new shining scales to replace them. My mind has grown new teeth. I see the evil in man, I recognize the Small Man, I feel out every impurity of the soul. The enemy clawed out my eye, but in our struggle gave me another, teaching me much of his art of war.
In my enemy I saw myself, but wiser, experienced, prepared. I fought an uneven battle, learning through each misstep, stumbling around like a blind man, swinging at him a broken blade, and he laughed at my attempts to hurt him.
But knowledge must be earned, and, if need be, suffered for. I know One who hanged himself, pierced by a spear, hanging from the tree for three whole days.
And yet he glimpsed the knowledge of the Runes.
I too am one-eyed. And yet I see true.