Beware The Inkling

Beware the Inkling

Beware the Inkling, all those who cling to self. It makes a mockery of identity, erasing and redrawing lines for its pleasure.

Beware the Inkling, he who thinks he knows strength. Its poise and finesse can bring down the thickest walls.

Beware the Inkling, she who thinks she knows beauty. It seeks out that which is ugly, no matter how well it is hidden.

Beware the Inkling, you who have plans for the future. It pulls the very threads of existence with no consideration of your dreams.

Oh, dreaded Inkling, you strike the canvas of creation with your medium of souls. Color and passion are your concubines. Those who are cruel, those who are hard, fear your artist’s hand will capture every angle, bringing them face to face with themselves.

Beware the Inkling, all those who hate spontaneity. It will confound you with the symphony of existence.

Beware the Inkling, he who thinks of deserving and undeserving. It will erase your ledger and mint its own currency for buying bread.

Beware the Inkling, she who demands perfection. It will reveal every cursed flaw and inlay them with gold.

Beware the Inkling, you who confuse expectation with reality. It will never paint a satisfying picture.

Mercy, oh, mighty Inkling! Your form is beyond our comprehension. Opaque, yet fluid, your ways are an enigma to those lacking eyes to see. Those who know your embrace yearn for more. You pour out your wisdom freely to those with empty cups.

Beware the Inkling, all those who revel in one-sidedness. It has already flipped the coin.

Beware the Inkling, he who cannot comprehend sorrow. It has already composed the dirge.

Beware the Inkling, she who confuses vice and virtue. It has already inscribed the law.

Beware the Inkling, you who are without reverence. It has already poured the wine.

More, beloved Inkling! Resisting you multiplies our thirst! Let us be bedfellows once again! We shed our skin, burst forth from our tombs, and leave our masks behind, all so that we may join the Lord of Hosts for an evening of words and relish. What fools we were to resist your charms. Though, we greatly enjoyed the game. Drown our personas in the inky abyss. Let us experience the ecstasy of death and rebirth. We will forever be your servants.

Beware the Inkling, you who love your chains. It shatters them when you are sure you cannot live without them.