DEMON’S SPEECH

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.