- un gato
- |
- Intrepid Mythic Member
We’ve watched while the stars burned
Out, and creation played in reverse.
The Universe freezing in half-light.
Once I thought to escape.
To end a master, step out of the
Path of collapse. Escape would make us God.
Yet I cannot help but remember one enigma,
A hybrid, elusive destroyer.
This is the one mystery I have not solved.
The only element unaccounted for.
To anyone who first figures out
(Easy)
1) What the following dialouge is referring to,
2) Who's point of view it is from, and
(Hard)
3) What it is a (loose) adaptation of.
(Writing a letter)
(Finishes, looks up)
Is this a gun which I see before me?
Ah, and here is the murderer, taking the gun!
But strange, he has no face…
Why should that be?
Should a faceless man have less consequence,
Living without repercussions from his acts?
Should he not suffer from any evil he may do,
Any atrocity he may commit in another’s name?
Ah, but the man can not see me.
I reach out to touch him, and he is not there.
What informer is correct?
Do my eyes lie, or my hands?
Both can not be telling me truth.
But the gun! It has turned red!
Red with the life of my President,
Who shall soon be no more,
Leaving me to inherit his office.
Why, though, should this false vision present itself to me,
When I am not the one who shall pull the trigger?
Alas, but the murder is still on my head,
For it is still I who sends the bullet on it’s way.
This murderer is simply another type of weapon,
Wielded through money and words.
This letter I hold must therefore be a gun,
For it shall kill a man.
(puts letter in envelope)
It is done.
The letter is sealed,
As is Kennedy’s fate.
Why must my breath be so loud,
As if it fears it shall soon be lost?
I should not fret to lose it,
For I will soon take another’s.
I must go.
My bullet must be sent,
So that it may find it’s mark.
(exits)
[Edited on 2/3/2005 3:20:34 PM]