I am a selfish thought,
an infantile desire,
a momentary vision,
a fiery admission,
a triumphant incision.
I am as constant as the north star.
To speak my name is an admission of weakness.
I am the fountain from which all literature,
all song,
all poetry,
From which all conflict,
all hate,
and all sorrow flows.
I am the source of all light and praise.
I am the void that consumes all hope.
I am a vision of truth,
the queen of falsehoods,
the prince of shame and sorrow.
I am the final wish,
The ending,
The beginning.
I am the ultimate evil and the reason for all hate.
I am the daughter of Entropy
and the son of Our Child Unborn.
I am the firstly placed stone,
the lastly placed cross,
the first shoots of May
and the dimly lit way;
I am a selfish thought.