The Old Names

Foolish mortals and their petty magicks.
Your weapons are useless.
Your spells the mutterings of madmen.
You think your words have meaning.
You think you have wisdom.
You think you can know me from my words.
But I, like you, only say what I wish to say.
Show what I wish to show.
I cannot be bound, or exorcised, summoned, or banished.
I go where I like, do what I wish.
And if there is blood on my hands, it is because I have shed it.
Willingly.
Think not you know me.
For, politeness aside, I am evil.
I have torn the flesh of men and women.
Tasted blood.
Feasted on the souls of the weak.
And noble alike.
The last shreds fall away,
and I will be revealed.
Grinder.
Render.
Fiend.
The words fall short.
Paqok.
Shtabai.
Daeva.
I am what I have always been.
But more than what I was.
Ah Chuy Kak.
Son of Cain.
Glammour.
Call me what you will.
Coyote.
Dajoji.
Inua.
The names are music in my ears.
The wheel is complete.
I have come full circle.
To start again.
To begin anew.
My burden is mine.
Chosen with volition.
And purpose.
Insidious.
Deadly.
And passionate,
I walk among you.