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.