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Xehanort
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Entry XII: Discovery
The air breathes silently,
This planet, defaced by a power I do not understand,
There is an irritation inside,
An alien being which rends the walls of my mind,
Attempting to control...
The air mires firmly, flow disrupted--an obscured conflict,
Muscles constricting, the nervous system malfunctions,
Ergo do fissures carve themselves from the surface,
Do mountains construct themselves from naught,
Nature coincides with the circumstances of thought,
Thus does the scenery change: from tundra to desert and all in between,
Flashing like slides of a reel, reforming earth and atmosphere,
Extract...
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Locus diplaced, a world of error...
No longer a replica of some planet,
It is a product of my own making,
Shifting forms as the flourishing brain activity dictates,
A mania, now a separate entity from myself,
Bound by purpose to deconstruct the universe,
Once a guardian... once an angel...
Now, but a virus, manifesting itself exponetitally,
Echoing algorithmic patterns,
The macrocosm is--
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