We are the glory,
the foundation of mastery.
We are the gods,
that gods worship.

Behind cloaked hands,
and masked flesh,
I am shrunken and broken.
This is the change I sought.

Pallid skin and hollow eyes,
ashen and wretched and still.
This is the price,
of deification.

There was another face,
aside and before this,
this terrible presence
both awesome and awful.

I remember days,
supping on the fine
sweet sugar of

I would lie in the whisperings
of lovers and killers alike.
Tell me sweet nothings,
for I will remember anew.

I am changed now,
power has taken me.
But I am the memory,
something of me remains.