I take no shape from any master’s hand;
my name is Evil, unrestrained by fate,
and like my father, I am unforgiv’n.
Because your house left ev’ry curse unbroken,
I slipped through gaps in your forefathers’ sins.
Heralding the night, yet invisible,
I stand before the eyes of everyone.
I returned to the places I once knew,
though Mother Earth remained silent to me.
I listened till her soft, buried whispers
blurred into one with ocean’s restless hush.
Oncoming storms smashed many ships apart;
waters gripped them tight and stole their last breath.
Still their lost lives drift past me, without weight;
their rise and fall mean nothing now to me.
Long I wandered, following a lone mast—
sloops, fat galleons, British men-of-war—
seeking Death’s playground, Life his chosen sport;
I stepped beyond mortality’s low fence.
Cold winds bore my formlessness at my will
over cities crowded thick with mortals.
Wherever I appeared, bodies sickened,
souls tore themselves to shreds for wicked deeds.
Overtaken by plague and pestilence,
they did not recognize the demon’s work.
You may not yet believe that I exist,
but try denying demons ever walked.
Each new dawn sends another omen forth
t’ward the hour of Grey’s ruin, drawing near.
Merging with dusk, sinking into the depths,
I leave the dark gate ajar.