The Puppeteer

It is raining… cold. The night sky sings. The wind screams for clemency. It is beautiful nights like this that my past remembers me… and I it. Should I prepare you a cup of…? Hah! No… Of course not, who could drink tea on a night like this…? It would warm your stomach, but my story… my story would chill your heart. I remember often the feeling of loneliness, as I remember the feeling of the cold. I grew accustom to the cold, and, in time, even came to accept it. The darkness speaks to me, reminding me of the demon I accepted and the death it brought to me.

I was considered a poet by many, an orator by some, but I was… am nothing more than a demon, a monster. I felt very little, hatred and malice. That was all, hatred and malice. I wrote with hatred… thought with malice… and lived with both. I created this demon; no-one possessed me. Me, myself, I was the demon!

I should like to hurry along and tell you my story, as I am breathing my last and have little time. My candle draws near its end and its light grows dim. What is done is done, History cannot be altered, and Future is awaiting her time. I met them all: History, Future, Love, Life, Hatred, Loneliness, and Death. As for my name… that is of little importance. You may simply think of me as the Puppeteer, or perhaps the Master Puppet... Ah yes, the Master Puppet that will do just splendid.

I was my own most faithful friend, along with my pet raven… and my own worst enemy. I never knew that damned woman known as Lady Love, nor did Life ever make herself known to me. Hatred often attacked me, as Loneliness beckoned and bid me come and die. I obeyed. Little did I realize, but whole-heartedly I obeyed. I was as damned as she…

Yes, Death came for me. Four days I fought that bastard, until he finally overcame me. Illegitimate! Illegitimate he was. He wanted nothing from me, he had nothing to gain from me, and he required nothing of me. We fought in many venues. He attacked me in every possible way.

First, he attacked me mentally, showing me legions of demons. He taunted me… challenged me to fear, but I would not. What should I fear…? Oh, begging your pardon. It is not proper to ask a question that one can not answer. He attacked me next physically. I was beaten, battered, even crushed. The weight of his darkness pressed me, breaking me, but even in this I overcame him. I taunted him, challenged him, “Give me more!” I screamed, “I long to feel a pain greater than my emptiness!” However, what I truly longed for was a beautiful death. Spiritually… spiritually… that is where he finally overcame me. He burned my flesh, burned a cross into my skin. I could feel the power of that cross coursing through my veins, burning me. At this he began to scream: “Cry! Cry out to God! Alas, you cannot? God has nothing for you!” I could not cry out. I believed him. God had never loved me! At my brokenness, Death turned from me. I pleaded with him, begged him to take me, but he would not. He had nothing to take and I had nothing to give.

He would not kill me, but rather left me as a dead rose… alone. Alone again, cold and alone... I did not feel broken though, or disarrayed, but rather empowered. I had defeated Death. He could not take from me something which I did not already possess. He overcame me, but I was victorious. However…, he left his brand on me… I felt nothing of life. No rest, no peace, no love. I could feel nothing which made me alive, nothing which made me human. He left me to live, but he killed me none-the-less.
This, however, was not the case the second time Death came for me. He would be back, be back to finish the job he had started all those years prior. He would not allow me to continue to walk victorious… or walk lifeless. He was required to collect my due.
The angel came first though; this was the closest I ever came to love. I cannot… shall not, forget that which took my breath away.

Her eyes were that of fire
The kind which controlled my gaze
Her voice lulled my night
And her smile lit my days

My appearance often followed, and complimented, my being, the demon I just described to you. My hair was long, black as death, and straggly, oft’ times pulled back. It was this, the demon that the angel had fallen in love with. She loved me… I, however, could not return her love. This was something I was incapable of. She pleaded with me, begged me to put aside my hatred, but I would not. I could not put aside my hatred for a life… a God who would seek to watch me falter. He was the very one who had damned me from my birth. He had sent her; I knew He had, to seek a relationship with me. This is why I must… I had to kill her! and kill her I did. I called out to her: “Angel! Angel!” and she appeared. I spoke sweetly to her, using the very gift God had given me:

When the wind is left breathless
And beauty breathes its own
I wait to hear your voice
When the wind is taken off its throne

Such a majestic sound is breathed
When birds they sing no more
But instead hush to listen
To beauty never heard before

For every time I’ve heard your voice
I have dreamed it a thousand times
I dream your voice will silence
The imperfection of these simple rhymes

When your laughter floats along
Sweet flowers fade in shame
To times before their blossom
For your honor, your voice to proclaim

Then I did it… I killed her! I watched her die. I stood there as she fought to breathe. I watched as her heart-beat slowly diminished as she began to drift away. I had but one more act to complete. I took from her her wings. She died… as a human. She died with me.

I had done the deed. High-blasphemy. I rejected the very Spirit of God. My heart was as black as Death’s pestilence. I had no reason to live; there was no clemency for me.
Ah…, but Death came for me a second time, and so was his time. This time though, he required everything. He came for the very blood that runs through these veins. I can feel him, feel him taking from me, drawing the very energy from my words. I am still fighting… Fighting to breathe… Fighting to speak…

I have spoken with the mouth of the heavens… as I have penned the very nature of eloquence… but neither in the heavens… or the earth… or under the earth… is there a word known to me… to describe the darkness I feel… There was no rhyme or reason… no purpose… only vigilance of treason… Lady Love was not the one damned… but rather I… Damned in life… of my own accord… and now… damned in death... I controlled my entire life… The masque… Both the puppet and the puppeteer… I truly was the damned Puppeteer…My raven... has... flown away! Listen carefully…

For all who choose to fight will be rewarded,
But all who turn in fear will walk away ashamed,
For all who take hold of the sword will fight for justice,
But for all whom the sword takes hold of will fight for their lives,
For all who choose to fight for cause will win,
But all who fight to win will die to cause,
Fight while you can, for what you can,
For in the end, only the fight will survive the massacre,

The blood from my wrists… I feel… cold… Death has finally overco…