War
War is the closest thing to Hell mankind can imagine. So therefore I
write a poem on the wonderful perpetual motion machine we've made
ourselves into.
War ruins life
it causes strife
But all we can do is cause more
it never changes, for it is war
but can we change it
without making ourselves be hit
It seems like we have the ablity to change
but we always seem to flange
And become the doppleganger
and the final destroyer
destroy more and more
because it's always war
We always vow to improve
but all we can do is prove
we are all fools
and all end up tools
in our own destruction.
On and On Around and Again
Why is it that as a people we are inable to change. We keep the same
flaws as a culture and as a race that lead to our self destruction. We
ignore all truth, giving it up to be comforted. Or is it the comfort
that we fear? Being close to all we hold dear? Why do we fear change?
We never take a step into the uncertain, but is it not worse to be
uprooted and tossed into the raging sea than to go to the beach and
swim?
It seems like we're happy with
strife. Do we not keep our traditions, our feuds, our habits? We say
that we should change. Is it that we fear the shooting range? Is that
why we cannot fly into our golden era? Or is it that we are complacent?
Not fear but gluttony keeps us company. Why is it that we opt to send
ourselves through Hell than take the chance to ring the bell? We never
update, merely hate, hate, hate. We cannot move on because we are
rooted in the past. We should forget the mistakes of the past, stop
pointing fingers, move on forward, have peace. But we insist upon
turning upon ourselves, bringing about our own destruction? Oh, wicked
ones repent, God's chosen ones casting him away, how dare we go so far
astray? Would we rather pay for our sins than accept freedom, go for a
new beginning, hope for the future, not hold ourselves down?
Let's crush our foes between our toes, move on and on, keep from
stagnation and avoid damnation. For we have but a body of lead, not
much seems to be inside our head, let us defend ourselves, draw then
withdraw, and hope that we may escape the maw of destruction. That way
we may have peace.
Mechromancy- Imperial Pantheon
The Imperial Pantheon is a small collection of Greater Ascended
Ancients from before the Empire was formed. These patron deities make
up the Imperial pantheon. They are like players of a game, the Empire
is their pawn. The Seer is their main religious figure, and he rules in
conjunction with the Emperor. For those not paying attention, the
Imperial Pantheon is not the same as the Akamari religion (An'the'ra
being their leader). An follower of the Imperial pantheon chooses one
god to follow, and one to scorn.
Mardus, god of death, mandates the end time of the Empire's finest and their foes.
Inya, goddess of life, mandates the birth of life, and the end of strife.
Levus, god of craftsmanship, mandates construction and destruction of arts and mechanics.
Barus, god of magic, whispers to the Empire's mages in their sleep, teaching them the ways of magic.
Oria, goddess of war, whispers to the Empire's finest soldiers, teaching them the ways of bloodshed.
Pakus, god of peace, whispers to the Empire's diplomats, teaching them the ways of persuasion and negotiation.