The beast and the poet

The beast. All brawn, no brain. An immense amount of muscle, hiding an empty space were a soul should be. The insensitive one. The flower crusher. The one who rapes, tortures and kills. Mutated by long years of solipsism, his self-illusions drowned him into the pool of nothingness. Yet, he is loved by many. His trickery can fool mostly anyone. But he could not fool the poet.

The poet. Deep eyes, deep soul. A world of peace to give. Ignored by most. Angel to some, demon to others. The betrayed. The sufferer. The miserable. Yet, the romanticist. The lover of Nature. The worshiper of Mother Earth. The honesty and respect. Where others have claws, he has words. Once a friend of the beast, until it's claws pierced harder than ever.

Now their paths are crossed again. The beast has gone too far this time. Deja-vu. He crushed the last of the poet's dreams and stomped it, over and over again. The wretched beast betrayed the poet once again. During his rage, he suffocated the poet and left him to die. There was nothing the poet could do besides lying on the cold, rock floor, and watch the beast go away, destroying every beautiful thing in his path.

This was the end of the poet. Forsaken by everyone, watching his hopes being wrecked.

But he shall return. The spirits of Mother Earth will not let him down. The beast will regret all he has done. The poet will heal, and when fully recovered, he will be as glorious as Nature itself, thanks to the Goddess. Once almost dead, soon he shall embrace immortality and rebuild all which was taken by the beast.