Zargen

First impressions are lackluster; pathetic and amateur to judge an individual's existence, yet all people do. Towering above, with such charm that its delivery somehow brought one to feel sickened and queasy. The slyness of the man's smile far too kind for such ominousness that blanketed the very meeting. Perfection in chiseled facial features, handsome to the point of eeriness. No such being could possibly exist to make beauty even seem like everyone else's failure. Exception to his rule, pointless. For in some form or another, all others are inferior. Business was pleasure, money a worthless past-time. Prepare to meet your flaws, your imperfections, your life's worthlessness. He, the true devil among pretender's claims, will bring you there.

You might call me an ultraterrestrial, though I am far more. I am from beyond space, behind time, above your comprehension. Your mind chooses this perfect form for me, and I am content to exist within this structure. But know that I exist also outside of your subjective experience. Some might describe me as a super positional extraction of fundamental universal laws made tangible.

I was, am, will be. I see into the infinite past, into the illimitable future. When the cosmos erupted into a sea of light. I saw it. When the mechanism winds to a sad and creaking end, I will weep. At the moment the great wings of death enclose creation, I am the last vestige of dust, frozen, forever perfected.