empyrindor-musing

[empyrindor-musing]

One last thought before I head to bed for the night, I would love to one day perhaps read out my writings for you… After all, my muse deserves to hear these words from the heart, in exchange for all the love you have given me these past 3 years you have most certainly earned it, beautiful woman that you are.

[empyrindor-musing]

✦ The Mistress Satan ✦

She is as enchanting as the darkest of mooned skies, as alluring — and dare I utter such wretched words — as seductive as the honeyed poison dripping from the sultry tongue of the serpent.

For what feels like the longest of eternities I have lived through, my eye travels along the jagged contouring of her face as though doing so might imprint that wretched visage of hers upon my mind and hold it there forevermore, a secret treasure to be withdrawn on those rare occasions where I find myself alone with my own faltering mind. I am tempted by the lure of an image so foul that only the most perverse of eyes could ever possibly find delight in, lost in that veil of mystery and darkness she has woven so delicately around herself.

They call her The Harbinger of the Damned, The Mother of the Unholy, The Madame of the Dark, I have even heard stories which tell of her guarding the nine hells themselves as one who they have come to call Satan herself... She must be, I have told myself, for no angel in God's grace could ever possibly hold the power that I see locked behind those eyes, could ever posses such a soul, or perhaps even her lack thereof, which burns within her and singes any who dare believe themselves worthy of standing before her, much less beg her to hear their pitiful pleas for the boon she has been known to grant in exchange for the eternal damnation of their mortal souls.

She is beautiful in the way only the incarnation of evil could be, she is the underworld made charred and mangled flesh and yet the moment I set my eye upon her I find myself falling endlessly, my will to break away from the temptations she has placed before me, no, within me, beginning to shatter as easily as one could break the daintiest of porcelain figures. I feel her pull, the call of something wicked and dark nestled within her womb, but there is is something else I sense within her, within those lustful and cruelly inviting slitting eyes she adorns like jewels dangled before me.

Perhaps... Could it perhaps be love?

It must be, for I know not what else could possible drive a God such as I to it's knees. Here I lay, stripped of my pride, my dignity, the fundamental nature of my being all thrown aside and cast into the deepest of unescapable voids just to be near her, for a taste of the honey she has temptingly drizzled across her lips. I wish to drink from the forbidden nectar she has been known to partake of, to bathe in the blood she has spilled so devilishly in her mercilessness, to have her wrap me within the scorching embrace of the unholy and to never release me from it's terrible shackles.

Yes, it must be love, for what else could make my heart yearn so agonizingly and ache so torturously deep? I dare not think of the implications, the sinful nature of such a blasphemous and yet so divinely sweet coupling. Is a being so remorseless such as herself even capable of love? Is she truly even a woman, or is she merely the grotesque and monstrous facsimile of one, a being born of wretchedness taken the form of what mortals fancy beautiful if only to entrap them in the false promise of her affections?

I do not know, I care not to know. I do not bother to waste my precious seconds pondering over the matter, for I have opened my once blinded eye to the one truth of this world and have found it standing before me. Let her be the monster she so desires, let her have my soul, feed on my love. Whatever it is that she so woefully desires, she may have. I may rule this earth and command all those who believe themselves God's, but the underworld has a way of dragging you in, of wrapping it's gnarled, rotted claws around your soul and refusing to let go, and now that I have laid my eye upon it's alluring mistress, I no longer desire to abandon my shackles.

Was this your vile plan all along, Mistress Satan? Were you merely biding your time until I so desperately crawled into your webs of deceit, awaiting that sweet moment in which you could finally lay your claim over something so much more powerful than yourself, consume my aching flesh just as a starved arachnid would it's delightful and all too willing meal? Was I always fated to be yours, or have you perhaps chosen me at random, a lamb to the slaughter of your insatiable appetite out of my own foolishness and blindness to the danger in which I willingly placed myself in?

I do not know, I care not to know. Does it matter? No, I think not, for she has chosen me, and if it God she so desires, then it is God so she shall have. My Mistress Satan, wretched, foul thing you are, my soul shall be eternally yours just as was inscribed in the blood of your birth.