Peer On Prey

Peer down, grin with glee and savor the prey, Voracious Visitor. Up high, beyond where the air is terrifyingly thin, It plays the part of a silent spectator. Eyes on the prize: mouth-watering flesh-bearers by the billions, below and above ground, even sailing the seas or dipped under. Unaware, too tangled in their tiny troubles, they are juicy bits to Its cosmic appetite.

Beyond aching desire, by darkest destiny, it is forged and tempered in a loathsome lifetime long predating this petri dish of existence. An unholy aberration, known with the most ill-mused slight of defying and defiling sane logic, it takes devious delight, ever so eager to indulge on so many. An adept enraptured predator over a field of prey.

Those building blocks within countless life-forms are not what It is after alone. Their wills as well. Alluring abstract capable of pushing one to and past the limits, even attain godhood and flaunt great power. Free-will to produce causality of infinitesimal and astronomical scale is excruciatingly delicious to this divinely different demon from decayed dimensions.

It is not divine. It is not damned. Yet, it is awfully apt to fashion feverishly fantastic feats that would make Men go evergreen in envy. An Old Power though not a native of this vast yard embellished by everlasting embers and emptiness.

The fearsome filth ominously smiles at Fate for giving It appalling easement to ignore the grueling gravity that came with the downfall of bygone Creation. Such a colossal cluster of archaic existence was laid to rest by countless superpowers to finally cease egregious elder wars—treacherous transcendent tribunals that daringly doomed stars and souls.

Alas, this heavenly horror lived through such indescribable condemnation. It is the worst kind of guest to have in this metacosmic museum, this latest iteration of the Grandest Cosmos. An astral enslaver of freedom and comfort from long-abandoned lifetimes ago; pernicious pasts that should only be recreated not an iota more than vague, fleeting, pale memories. Perhaps even as mere recollections, they are vivacious and vicious, worthy of worry should they resume in perverting reality.

To make a festive banquet over these squirming spots and striding stripes of sentience is ecstasy, to say the least. If need be, this cosmic cretin will bide Its time, a quite eternal one, maybe truly so but a migraine to even lightly comprehend, until opportunity allows none to challenge Its ungodly authority. They can try, oh yes, but they shall all drown in deepest dread and left overly encumbered by the abhorrent anchor of fervent futility not long after daring to act with defiance. But defiance can make wills even more delicious.
 

Have Its way.
Have Its prey.
Come, dear night.
Smile, sweet day.
Eyes delight,
Want dares stay.
All-Bane of Wills,
Pray It goes away.