Moving away from the plane we enter a mysterious building.
Hearing the sounds of hospital equipment we see someone hooked up to a machine.
Oxygen pumping into their lungs.
Blood being pumped into their veins.
We see a maimed man writing.
Broken. Damaged. Hurt.
Deep in a room we have never seen before.
Hands trembling he puts his hand to the paper.
To be a Conquerer.
~Mr. N's Journal Page 4549
The Earth Is Mine to Conquer.
Your arrows have pierced me and your hand has come down on me.
Because of your wrath there is no health in my body.
There is no soundness in my bones because of my sin.
My guilt has overwhelmed me, like a burden too heavy to bear.
Everyday I send hundreds to their death and I have the audacity to come back to you to speak about it.
I have long lost my ability for empathy.
But one man activated that nerve in my brain and now I cannot function.
If I return to viewing humans as human. I will lose my ability to dream. And If I lose my ability to dream.
The man raises his hand to his chest shivering.
"I will lose my ability to live."
And "I will die."
I have long lost my mind.
I am an abomination.
A baphomet.
And yet you allow me to continue my dream.
Why have you not casted me out of your kingdom?
I have defiled your image with my very existence. Why do you keep me alive.
Those who want to kill me set their traps.
Those who would harm me speak of my ruin.
And all day long they scheme and lie.
I have become like one who does not hear, whose mouth can offer no reply.
"So I wont offer anything else."
"I'll give it all I have."
Because if guilt is a killer.
I will never die.