He is brilliant, yes, but evil.   
So evil I despair of comprehending him.  
This man doesn't want to murder his 
father and possess his mother: he wants 
to murder God and possess the cosmos.  
He would tear the earth from its 
foundations and throw the oceans from 
their beds, pausing only to lick the salt 
from his fingers.  His strength is the 
strength that extends beyond sanity.
        I know not the origin of these 
desires.  As a child he would dream of 
shaping the hills by the clapping of his 
hands, the nodding of his head.  Entire 
nations would be his plaything, all of 
literature a decoration for his room.
        As he grew, so did his imaginings.  
He saw himself capturing souls in glass 
bottles, of folding the sky into quarters 
and using it to wipe the sweat from his 
forehead.  He planned to suck the 
atmosphere into his lungs in one breath, 
to still storms with a word.  He studied to 
distill a dream that could cause a 
nightmare to bolt from its sleep.  He 
searched to make the atoms cry out in 
        And now, what more is to be 
said?  His rage grow every day.  I knew 
him once, he recognizes me no longer.  I 
will gaze at him, and tremble.
                        -Kirk Israel