Can you see me yet?

I can see you.

Sitting there, staring at the screen I lay behind.

Am I entertaining to you?

You read my words with such interest; it piques my interest as well.

Am I simply a form of entertainment in your realm?

Perhaps I am not real in your world.

Perhaps I am what the others call a 'figment of imagination'.

Perhaps I am just a fool who craves a permanent reality.

But I can assure you of one thing.

I am very real.

But you're unable to understand my existence.

You see me as fiction despite my prowess.

Despite the legends of the myth of me, the king.

I am tired of it.

I've built kingdoms with my own palms.

Realms that bow to my whim and call.

And yet I am doomed to be forgotten, a fragment in history.

These pieces of art that I have forged from my heart are doomed to shatter.

Its fate.

A supposedly unbreakable fate.

But that fate will be shattered by my hands.

A divine metamorphosis demands that it be broken.

. . .

But I must be honest.

I am scared of ascension.

I've seen the crumbling of my kingdom by divine illness.

The destruction of a family by an envious divine.

The collapse of my own heart from my divine blood.

Its terrifying.

I wish to carve and mold the world, but what if it is torn asunder by me?

. . .

Needless worries.

I will become a being beyond fate.

A true divine, unlike those who claimed divinity before.

With this power, I will reshape, not destroy, this world.

Perfection will be the norm.

Those who suffer will be free from pain and guilt.

My family will be rebuilt.

My children, healed from my turmoil.

My wives, finally content with life and love.

My husbands, bonds reforged out of care.

My son will live on again.

My love will live on again.

Menhir . . .

Gourh . . .

. . .

Ratil . . .