Countless worlds had the Laughing God perceiv’ed,
Expired from old age, or snuffed out savagely.
All things ran to the terminus most dreaded,
All things concluded always, in tragedy.
Yet here she found a thing She’d never pondered,
A hole in her own existence, deep and broad,
And into it her own children had wandered,
For some there were without mem’ry of their God.
She took portions of spirit and intellect,
Aspects She’d hammered down and hidden soundly,
Parts that had proven weakness in her conflicts:
Her empathy, her care, and understanding.
Then at great cost to her dreams of ascension
The Laughing God trimmed these pieces from her heart.
Above all she knew this sacred axiom,
‘True power, always comes down, to what you’ll cut.’
From this issue of blood, these segments of her;
From that tumorous growth, her tissue rending,
The Laughing God crafted herself a Daughter,
And gave to her a purpose, and an ending.
‘You’ll walk among the bearers of this schism,
With men and elves, and orcs deep underground,
And learn the secrets of this great division,
Then unto me, girl, relate what you have found.’
So the girl walked, one foot before the other,
And she listened, with a hunger, to explore.
People spoke, and the words she brought her Mother,
Of memories and covenants now forsworn.
‘The Gods blinked,’ she said, ‘left this world deserted,
If only, but for a moment, in your wars,
But in that void, a new power emerged,
One which the Gods, have never, beheld before.
You can’t see it, but you’ll feel it, in the water.
You’ll know it, when you stare up, at the moon.
It’s nature’s son, it’s supernature’s daughter,
And the lyrics to a long forgotten tune.
It’s a song found while edging on delusion.
It’s a half remembered dream, you’ve lived before.
It’s rejecting this world and its illusions.
It’s the hunch, that your own life, is something more.
It’s the mischief that gives your life direction.
It’s a color that your eyes have never seen.
It’s a love you didn’t know you’d found yet.
It’s the voice you hide: the one you’ve always been.
They try a thousand words to best describe it,
This presence living on your periphery,
And those who feel it, and cannot deny it,
Are thus stained by witchcraft’s haunting melody.’
Her Mother then Laughed long, but still admitted,
‘This troubles me, for I Am what is, and was,
And will be! Yet this thing, I did not will it.
How did this horrid … creation come to pass?
If I cannot know it, it’s not worth knowing.
If I cannot have it, it’s not for having.
If I cannot feel it, then there’s no feeling.
I may not get it, but I’ll still be Laughing.’
A sacred charge was given to the daughter,
‘Learn of this thing, this vile, most unwelcomed force.
This alien, and interloping matter
And then help me find a way to cut its source.
Twelve I’ll raise who’ll join you in your wanderings,
Who will speak the very language of the mind.
They’ll pull secrets, forcefully, from all beings
Who’d harbor such unintelligent design.
Together, thus shall thirteen, halt creation,
And I will stand alone, my power extending.
In that day Girl, I’ll have back my ablation,
Mother and Daughter both, shall have their ending.’”
